The Return of the Viking Daughter
by YouRang
Summary: AU Vikings story. The Lothbrok brothers were always Sera's neighbours growing up, but a devastating revelation when Sera's sixteen tears them apart for years. What will happen when she returns, and realizes that Ivar loved her then, and still loves her now? I only own Sera. Rated M - Violence, language, smut, drug use, rape. TRIGGER WARNINGS.
1. Chapter 1

I tried to pretend that I wasn't anxious... alright, terrified to leave my car. I could see activity going on at their house, the usual hubbub and chaos that circled them; a truck with the hood up, two motorcycles visible in the large garage and not for the first time I cursed the fact that, although we lived on the affluent side of town, with large landscaped yards, the Lothbrok home and my childhood home rested on the edges of our respective properties; meaning that we had a constant view of the other's goings-on. My old home was at the top of a small rise, which afforded some small privacy, but I'd had a front row seat to the Lothbrok brother's life my whole childhood.

When I had been a small child, they'd been nothing but loud and vaguely frightening figures roaring and running around, playing roughly, mock-fighting, wooden swords cracking against the other. The oldest, Bjorn, from the father's previous marriage was already a grown man then, calm and steady and tall, presiding over his half-brother's shenanigans with a benevolent, but iron fist.

Ubbe, the oldest, was always kind and steady, the one to soothe any hurt words or bumps caused by his younger siblings. Sigurd and Hvitserk were hellions, always raging around, but it had been the youngest son, Ivar, that had always intrigued me, and frightened me, the most. Born with a bone disease that left his legs spindly and useless, Ivar nonetheless was a powerful sight. His upper body more than made up for any weakness in his lower, but it was his mind that was truly terrifying. Angry and cunning, an unpredictable thinker with an unsurpassed streak of cruelty he had me going in fear of him even as a child.

We were the same age, Ivar and I, which meant we attended the same private school, the same classes. I did my best to stay away but it wasn't always possible. Ivar's parents, Ragnar and Aslaug and my parents were friends, and were always pushing us together in one way or another. We studied together, spent most afternoons after school together, whenever my parents needed to be away I, an only child, was shuttled over there to stay until they returned.

In time I'd grown used to them and their wild ways, even began to join in with their rough-housing. In many ways Ragnar was more of a father to me than my own, teaching me as he taught his own sons how to fight and defend myself. And after awhile, I'd even lost my fear of Ivar, taking his grumpy attitude in stride; we'd even become somewhat friends, meaning I tolerated Ivar and his moods, and he was more open and friendly with me than anyone else, except his brothers.

When Ivar and I were sixteen, my world had fallen apart and I had been dragged away from my home and the men I considered brothers and perhaps more; and now... eight years later, I was back.

Heaving a sigh, I kicked the car door open and stepped out. Trying not to look too closely down the hill I kicked the door shut then stormed to the front door. It still had not fully hit me, but the closer I got to the house, the more real it began to feel. My father was dead, and, according to his lawyer, he had left me everything, the house, his business, all his money, everything. I hadn't been here in eight years, not since my mother had dragged me out in the middle of the night, screaming at my father that he would never see us again, not since my mother had found out about my father and Ivar's mother.

I reached the door and fumbled for the keys. They had been clearly marked but I was having trouble reading them because of the tears clouding my eyes. Not for the first time, not for the first time _today,_ and not for the last time I cursed myself and my stupid pride, the stubbornness that had kept me away from here even after I had become an adult, out from under my bitter mother's thumb. I had eventually forgiven my father for his sin, or at least no longer let it keep me awake at nights, but I hadn't been able to spur my obstinate ass into actually stepping away from the life and career I'd made myself and return in person to tell him. Our few phone calls had always been stilted and painfully awkward, the elephant in the room bellowing for attention and stomping it's massive feet.

Finally I found the correct key and pushed it into the lock, turned; nothing... _what the fuck?_ I pulled it out and tried again, tried all the keys on the ring before groaning and turning away. I squinted at the offending key and growled, one of the teeth were broken off, it was useless. It was also Saturday, which meant my chances of tracking down my father's lawyer were slim to none. He turned off his cell phone on weekends, and moved out to the golf course. A number of options ran through my mind, return to the hotel I'd checked out of this morning, try calling the lawyer anyway, maybe finding out his house number so I could pester his wife or maid enough that they sent out the bat signal for him, smash a damn window (it was my house now, dammit), or... no. I looked back down the hill and sighed, my feet carrying me before my mind was ready.

The Lothbrok's had always had a spare key for our house when I was a child, and we did for their's. We'd hardly needed to use it, but it had always been that little bit of extra security, a reassurance. I wasn't sure how I felt about it now, I'd hoped to avoid this reunion for a bit longer.

Rock music, a mere drone at the top of the hill, became clearer as I neared the Lothbrok's house. It was coming from the garage, which was no surprise, many weekends had been spent out there, the boys teaching me about engines and mechanics. I veered that way, hoping to find perhaps Ubbe, or Hvitserk, and stopped at the pickup. A pair of jean covered legs stuck out from underneath the jacked-up truck, clad in heavy motorcycle boots, laying on a rolling creeper.

"Hey," I said tentatively, tapping gently at the nearest boot. A tool clanged underneath the truck, followed by a string of curses. Large, grimy hands appeared, gripping the edge of the truck's body and the creeper wheel's squeaked as it rolled out from under the truck. While the legs had been slim, the white t-shirt clad upper body was heavily built and powerful, muscles rippling across the broad chest and, even as my brain clamoured to warn me, my eyes locked with the most unbelievably blue pair I'd ever seen, set in the most devastatingly handsome face, a face I'd spent years trying to forget, a face I'd seen in my dreams every night, even before I'd left. His full lips pulled into a curious mix of surprise and scorn.

"Sera. Never thought we'd see you again." Ivar snarled.

 _Shit._

For a moment I was rendered speechless, in addition to leaving my father in the middle of the night, I had also left the Lothbroks, and the expression on Ivar's face showed that feelings were still raw. Pushing the rest of the way out from under the truck Ivar sat up, rubbing one thick forearm across his forehead.

"You lost?" He added, throwing me another baleful glare.

"No, I, uh..." _Shit._ "My key won't work, I was hoping you guys still had a spare."

Ivar scoffed, shaking his head, as if what I'd just said was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. He looked away and sucked in his bottom lip for a moment; looking like he was contemplating a fresh insult to lob at me and I took the opportunity to study him. He'd grown into a man since I'd left, his shoulders broadening, body filling out with a mouth-watering expanse of muscle. He wore his hair long, shaved on the sides, pulled into a manbun. His naturally pale skin was tanned and smooth, offsetting his almost supernatural cobalt eyes, eyes that hypnotized me, eyes that saw right through me, eyes that made me shiver, for completely opposite reasons.

Before he had a chance to throw more verbal abuse my way however, a door slammed open at the far side of garage and familiar voices reached my ears. Although I wasn't any happier to see them, I turned gratefully towards the distraction anyway. Their half-shouted conversations died instantly when they saw me and they stumbled to a halt.

"Holy shit... Sera?" Ubbe called, glancing over at Hvitserk in shock before turning back to me. At some unspoken signal they both charged me and I was soon squashed between two hard chests. I wasn't even sure who was hugging me, as the brothers seemed to be playing tug of war with me, pulling me back and forth between them. Hvitserk planted a sloppy kiss on my forehead just before Ubbe pulled me into a headlock, shaking me like a terrier with a rat. Finally I was released and staggered back, grinning despite myself. The older Lothbrok brother's enthusiastic welcome almost took the sting out of Ivar's vitriol.

"Are you back?" Hvitserk asked, eyes dancing.

I dug my toe into the concrete, procrastinating. I wasn't even sure yet myself. I had a home and life started across the country, but standing here amidst all these familiar sights and sounds was giving me serious case of nostalgic homesickness.

A loud thump and clamouring of limbs stole our attention before I could answer. Grabbing a crutch Ivar started to struggle to his feet. I instinctively took a step forwards to help then stopped, remembering Ivar's fierce independence, even as a child; and surely he'd be no more receptive to my help now, not after his scornful welcome so far. Gaining his feet he shot one more furious glare at me before eyeing both his brothers balefully, as if they were traitors for being friendly to me.

"She just wants the spare key, she didn't come over to say hi." He snapped, turning away. Despite myself, I couldn't help but notice that Ivar only used one crutch now, and seemed to have a bit more sturdiness to his legs, I wondering if it was simply pure rage driving him on right now, or something more. Without glancing back at us again, he slammed the door shut behind him. Ubbe turned back to me with a mild expression, apparently Ivar's temper had remained as fiery as ever throughout my absence.

"You need the key?"

I blushed, dropped my head. "Yeah, I uh... I wasn't sure if I'd have the guts to come by and say hey, but I guess the gods had other plans."

Hvitserk grabbed me then, pulled me into another headlock and ruffled my hair gruffly. "Not going to pretend we didn't miss you kid, but... it was kind of a shit situation all around."

I nodded, wiping unexpected tears away as he released me. "I'm sorry about Aslaug, she... she was always good to me."

The brothers nodded soberly. Three years previous, Aslaug had succumbed to late stage breast cancer, and while I'd been disgusted at my mother's joy at the news, I had made excuse after excuse until the need to offer my condolences had faded.

Ubbe nodded while Hvitserk looked away briefly, then Ubbe perked up. "Ragnar will be thrilled to see you... you should come by for supper tonight."

I opened my mouth, prepared to decline but both brothers turned to me with irresistible puppy dog eyes and I felt my resolve crumbling. I'd sincerely hoped to duck in and back out of my father's house without attracting any Lothbrok's attention, but that was all out the window now. I had to stop hiding, had to stop making excuses. The brothers had done nothing wrong, they'd been hurt by their mother's infidelity as much as me by my father's, and, in all honesty, the homesickness and affection for the Lothbroks I'd thought I'd successfully buried over the years had come roaring back with a vengeance. There was only one snag.

"Um... how is Sigurd?" I mumbled, not really wanting to know. In the months leading up to my mother's midnight exit, she'd suspected something was amiss and my parent's relationship had become strained, the atmosphere at home in turns suffocating and frightening. I'd escaped to the Lothbroks when I could, and began to delve into more and more bad behaviour. Part of that bad behaviour had been a romantic relationship with the second youngest Lothbrok, Sigurd. His chronic chip on his shoulder and rebellious streak were just the outlet I thought I'd needed and I'd put up with a lot of shit that I wouldn't dream of tolerating now. Of all the brothers, Sigurd was the least likeable, rude just for the sake of it, and he hated his younger brother Ivar with a passion. Time and distance had helped me realize that even though Sigurd and I had been fairly hot and heavy for awhile, his attraction to me had been more about some twisted competition with Ivar, more about rubbing me in Ivar's face. I'd even given the asshole my virginity, a sweaty, noisy, squirming affair in the back of one of Ragnar's many cars; and to be honest, if I never saw this brother again, I'd be okay with it.

Ubbe and Hvitserk traded a glance and it was Ubbe who answered me. "He'll probably be here too, please don't let that stop you, we'd really like to catch up. He has a fiancé now, maybe he'll leave you alone."

I snorted, not likely. "Okay," I relented.

Hvitserk surprised me with a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Great!" Ubbe enthused, "come by around 5:00."

"Can I bring anything?"

"Just yourself, still hate eggplant?"

"Hell yes."

"Alright, I'll go get the key." Ubbe favoured me with a pat on the cheek before turning and disappearing into the house. Nervously, I met Hvitserk's gaze, was relieved to see him smiling down at me.

"Hvitserk... I'm sorry-"

He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "We'll talk about it later. Believe me, between Ivar and Sigurd, you'll be bombarded enough, tell me about yourself instead."

Where to begin? Thankfully my answer was cut off by Ubbe returning, holding out a familiar key ring. Gratefully I took it and turned away before I needed to reply, my heart racing.

 _Okay, so that went well genius._ I berated myself as I climbed the hill. My heart was pounding, and not from the exercise. Why did I agree to meet them for supper? What the hell? Seeing Ubbe, Ivar and Hvitserk had been awkward enough... what about Sigurd? Unless he'd undergone a lobotomy in my absence, he was no doubt going to go out of his way to make things uncomfortable tonight. His chronic feud with Ivar would ensure that Sigurd would merrily goose-step down Memory Lane, reliving all our 'greatest hits' and reminiscing about the 'good old days'. _Prick._

Reaching the door, I tried the spare and breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened. Grabbing my overnight bag from my car I stepped into my former childhood home and shut the door behind me, breathing in deeply. It didn't smell how I remembered, free from my mother's near fanatical love of potpourri; and instead smelled like how I remembered my father, a hint of aftershave, fresh laundry; he'd been active right up until he'd fallen over dead from a heart attack at the tennis club, another reason why I'd thought I had more time to make things right with him, he'd seemed immortal to me, even as a child, a flawed god, but a god nonetheless. _Whoa,_ now was not the time for that train of thought, I would have to lament that tragedy later.

My feet took me to the second floor without my conscious intent and I found myself outside my old bedroom. I pushed the door open and was struck with the sudden impulse to bawl. Father had kept my room exactly as it had been when I'd left and my heart squeezed as I stepped inside, began to relive my childhood. I'd never been much for material possessions, but what I did keep around had been special to me. I hadn't had time to grab them all before I was taken away eight years ago, and I'd cried for weeks over the loss. What I'd lacked in stuffed animals, makeup and boy band posters on the walls I had instead made up for with pictures. I wondered if father had left my darkroom alone, down in the basement. I'd loved photography, loved taking pictures of my friends and I'd tacked them up everywhere.

I found my fingers trailing gently along the photos, pinned in random patterns to the walls. You could follow a timeline of my life looking at all these, starting from my first camera at age six, and my subsequent amateurish attempts that followed. Crooked landscapes, blurry motions, the occasion finger over the shutter-eye. But I'd persisted, and gotten better. As I'd grown, and my relationship with them had grown as well, more and more of my pictures had been of the Lothbrok boys; wrestling in the backyard, sword fighting, Ubbe trying to get Hvitserk to concentrate on the engine they were taking apart rather than on the Playboy he'd snagged from Ragnar. I pulled down the ones I'd taken of Sigurd while we'd been 'dating' and tossed them away. The predator's gleam in his eyes was devastatingly obvious now, and made me feel sick. I smiled at one I'd clearly cherished, framed and set on my dresser; Bjorn, Hvitserk, Ubbe, Ivar and I around a campfire, leaning in together for the shot, the firelight flickering in our eyes. Had I noticed before how Ivar's gaze had been on me, rather than the camera?

My heart rate started to pick up as I saw an emerging theme; whether I'd consciously realized it back then or not, an inordinate amount of the pictures I'd taken had been of the youngest Lothbrok. Poor Ivar had had to put up with me constantly shoving the camera in his face, had taken to wearing hoodies and caps so he'd have something to yank down over his eyes when he'd had enough. But sometimes... sometimes he hadn't, and the look in his eyes as he'd met my gaze through the lens now sent a shiver through me. My parent's fighting, my childhood growing up with them, my twisted relationship with Sigurd had all kept me blind to the love and devotion I now saw on Ivar's young face and I felt a new stab in my heart. _Shit, had I been that much in denial? Now supper was going to be REALLY awkward._

At 4:58 I locked and shut the door behind me and looked down towards the Lothbrok house. More vehicles filled the driveway, and I wondered vaguely if Ubbe had been on the phone all afternoon, inviting everyone and their dogs to supper tonight. No time to worry about it now. I'd chosen a plain pair of grey skinny jeans, knee-high boots and two simple layered camisoles for supper, not too fancy, but a little more dressed up than my usual Lulu capris and wife-beaters. My auburn hair, which usually chose the most inopportune times to suddenly resemble a frizzy botched execution, was behaving tonight and I'd even cajoled it into a high ponytail. My contacts had been driving me insane lately, so I was instead wearing my chunky wayfarer glasses, nerd chic, _c'est moi._

I had a death grip on the bottle of Rose in my left hand as I made my way down the hill and I shivered, suddenly grateful I'd grabbed a light, dove grey sweater on my way out the door. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

The door flew open and I found myself staring at a broad chest. Before I could look up, I was picked up and a familiar voice shouted in my ear.

"Sera! How you been, runt?" Bjorn's deep voice bellowed, his arms squeezing me tight. I struggled but I might as well have been fighting a brick wall. When he was good and ready, Bjorn finally dropped me back to my feet and I staggered slightly, grinning. His massive mitt dropped onto my shoulder and dragged me inside, Bjorn yelling ahead of me like a town crier and I was soon surrounded by people. Yanking my ponytail affectionately Bjorn began pointing out his family. I remembered Torvi, and had met his daughter as a baby, but the two younger boys were new and I was grateful for the distraction as they welcomed me as enthusiastically as their father. Ubbe appeared and gently shooed his niece and nephews away, then grabbed me in his own bear hug, releasing me only when Hvitserk elbowed him roughly. Sudden tears came to my eyes as I remembered my childhood, full of brotherly affection like this, rough hugs and playful punches, noogies and headlocks and my heart started to ache in longing.

"I heard you were back," a voice sneered.

I pulled away from Hvitserk reluctantly, grateful that he kept his arm slung around my waist and turned to the speaker. Sigurd hadn't changed, was still arrogant and defiant, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. The only difference I could see was his hair, he'd cut it short and frankly, it made his ears stick out.

"Hello Sigurd," I said stiffly.

Sigurd sniffed and eyed me up and down, as if I was a prize filly he was considering buying. "Looking good, nice to see you haven't let yourself go."

I turned to Hvitserk to hide my eye roll and was gratified to see he was curling his lip at his brother in annoyance. I tried again to be civil.

"How have you been?"

"Oh, you know. Career, fiancé, all that jazz."

I nodded in response. "Congratulations."

Sigurd smiled, a slippery twisting of his lips that made my skin crawl. "You ever feel like reliving some old memories, let me know."

Bjorn and Ubbe's dual growls were drowned out by a soft and gentle voice that still managed to dominate the room. "Sera."

I turned, heart starting to pound and fresh tears flooded my eyes. A few new lines, a few new grey hairs, but it was still the Ragnar I remembered. Forgetting all the shit of the last eight years I launched myself at my honorary father, the man who had been, in so many ways, more of a father to me than my own had been.

His arms closed around me and it felt like coming home. I found myself nuzzling my head under Ragnar's chin and inhaling his familiar scent deeply, his calloused hand stroked the side of my face and the tears flooding my eyes started to trickle down my cheeks. Pulling away slightly he cocked his head to the side in that quintessential Ragnar way and met my eyes, offering me a gentle smile and carefully wiping away my tears.

"Welcome home." He said warmly, patting my cheek.

Faintly, I heard a snort and glanced to the side in time to see Sigurd roll his eyes and storm away.

Ragnar's eyes followed his son for a brief moment before turning back to me. "You look well," he murmured, and although nearly identical to Sigurd's earlier words, they held none of the same malice and leer; I found myself smiling back.

"As do you," I replied, fingering his long beard thoughtfully, it was admittedly a little scruffy, but it suited his rustic vibe.

Ragnar smiled then, a wide grin so much like his sons and clapped my cheek gently, pulling me into one more bone-crushing hug before releasing me and stepping away. "I'm sure my sons are dying to catch up, I'll leave you for now. Supper will be ready in twenty minutes."

I smiled at his retreating back before being half-tackled by two familiar bodies.

"Love the glasses, little Red," Hvitserk teased, flicking them gently.

Ubbe tightened his headlock and ruffled my hair, "and the hair's still wild I see."

"Hey," I retorted, struggling ineffectually. "I got it into a ponytail!"

"Leave her be," Bjorn ordered softly. "You know as well as I that little Red's hair matches her temper, fiery and uncontrollable." He laughed, twisting away as I shook Ubbe free and launched myself at him. He held me at bay easily, one huge hand pressed to my forehead, his arm long enough to keep my swinging fists from making contact and roared in amusement. My heart soared and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly happy and light; I hadn't let myself realize until now just how much I had truly missed this, the easy banter and sibling affection I'd shared with the Lothbroks, well... most of them. Sigurd was a lost cause, and, after seeing and remembering all the pictures I'd taken displayed in my old room, my feelings for Ivar were a tangled mess.

Speak of the devil...

The thumping of crutches preceded him and soon Ivar was leaning in the doorframe, watching our antics with a mixture of boredom and scorn. By now I was riding Bjorn piggy-back, kicking joyfully and trying to fend off both Ubbe and Hvitserk, who were trying to unseat me from my mighty blonde steed.

"Grab her leg!" Hvitserk laughed, sidestepping another kick.

"YOU grab her leg, remember she kicks like a damn mule!" Ubbe retorted.

"Why are you bothering?" Came Ivar's pissy sounding voice. "She's not staying, she's just going to leave again."

Bjorn stopped his spinning while Ubbe and Hvitserk fixed Ivar with matching glowers. I felt my ears heat up. Yes, the original plan was to get in and get out fast, return to my life on the west coast, but... every moment I was spending in my rambunctious adopted brother's presence was eroding my will and intent. If asked point blank right now what I planned to do, I wouldn't honestly be able to answer. Fortunately, the boys had my back.

"Well then you should enjoy the time we have with her." Ubbe retorted. "Sera is free to live her life without worrying about your hurt feelings."

Christ, my ears could ignite kindling they were so hot right now.

Ivar's eyes drifted to me and for a moment I got lost in their hypnotic cobalt depths. _Never,_ his gaze whispered.

My breath caught in my throat at the intensity of Ivar's gaze, he'd always been a determined person, but in my absence he'd become an irresistible force, all too used to getting his own way, and if that failed, _making_ his own way. He was bound and determined to make my time here as difficult as possible, and, if it wasn't for the efforts of his father and older brothers, would be succeeding. After a long, baleful glare he turned back around and left, his broad back retreating from my vision.

"Ignore him little Red," Bjorn said quietly, turning his head over his shoulder to speak to me. Our faces were mere inches apart and I could see the gentle expression in his eyes, framed by faint laugh lines. I mustered a smile and reached down, slapping at his side.

"Go on, donkey!"

Bjorn laughed, snapping his head sideways to bop me in the forehead, and, with a yell, whirled back into the fray, Ubbe and Hvitserk resuming their quest to unseat me.

After a few minutes I took pity on my blonde donkey and called a truce, submitting to a noogie and thorough tickling from Ubbe and Hvitserk for my weakness. A wave of nostalgia hit me hard as I heard Ragnar yell at us to 'quiet down, you savages!' and fell back on the couch with a sigh, breathing hard from my non-stop laughing. Ubbe plopped on one side of me and Hvitserk the other, Hvitserk flopping sideways, dropping his braided head in my lap and Ubbe reached over to flick his nose, laughing at his brother's enraged squawk.

All too soon, Ragnar was calling everyone to the formal dining room for supper and I stood reluctantly. Ubbe and Hvitserk fell in step on either side of me and I felt Bjorn's comforting strength behind me, and it gave me the courage to walk straight-backed to the table.

Ivar eyed me nastily, chewing sullenly on a breadstick. Torvi favoured me with a welcoming smile as she herded her children to their chairs and I was introduced to Ubbe's wife, a quiet blonde woman named Margrethe then turned my head reluctantly towards Sigurd, who was clearing his throat importantly.

"Sera, this is my fiancé Veronique." Sigurd gestured to the brunette woman at his side. She gave me the same appraising look Sigurd had before extended her hand limply towards me.

"Enchante," she trilled.

"Nice to meet you," I replied neutrally and sat down in the chair Hvitserk was holding out for me. Ragnar smiled at me from the end of the table, I'd been placed at the other end, a spot normally previously by Aslaug but now for guests. I smiled back, grateful for his knowing wink as his relaxed gaze took in the tableau in front of him.

The first course was served and light conversation followed. Ivar remained stubbornly silent, and no one seemed overly eager to try and draw him out. I wasn't sure if my presence was the reason, but Sigurd saw fit to grace us all with a list of his and Veronique's accomplishments, I noticed she leaned frequently over, murmuring snide little comments to Sigurd in French and I rapidly grew tired of her cattiness.

As the second course wound down I found attention turning to me.

"Sera," came Ragnar's quiet voice, "tell us more of what you have been doing these past years." He question was innocent, merely curious, but I felt a pang of guilt nonetheless.

I took a deep breath and began. "After we... left, my mother took me to her family in California where we stayed until she enrolled me in an exclusive Swiss boarding school until I graduated. After that I transferred directly to Oxford. I completed my Masters in History this year, majoring in Early European, specifically 'Viking History'. Next year I'll begin my professorship at Columbia, at least... that was the plan before my father died. I basically haven't set foot on American soil since I was sixteen."

Silence met my response. Some, like Ragnar, were smiling proudly, seemingly pleased with my accomplishments. Others looked thoughtful, while Ivar continued to scowl. In truth, I'd channelled my grief and anger into working my ass off academically, burying my sadness and loss in textbooks and papers. Only near the end of my thesis had I given serious thought to my future, and whether or not I would return to my childhood home.

Veronique was again leaning towards Sigurd, murmuring in French and I was no longer able to let her comments slide.

' _She's lying, inflating her accomplishments, I bet she hasn't done any of that.'_

I saw red and before I could stop myself, my mouth was opening. "Je ne ments pas. J'ai compris tout ce que tu viens de dire. T'as pas entendu quand j'ai dit avoir passé 2 ans dans un internat en Suisse? Tout ce que j'ai raconte

sur mon education est vrai. Tu devrais plus t'inquieter de ton mec qui me mate que de mes qualitfiactions."

Again, silence greeted me. Everyone looked equal parts confused and wary, except for Sigurd, who'd obviously understood at least part of what I'd just said and looked furious; and Veronique, with spots of high colour on her sharp cheekbones. Without a word she stood and walked stiffly away, and with a snarl, Sigurd followed.

I turned immediately to Ragnar, mortified. "I'm sorry Ragnar, I lost my-"

"Do not apologize." Ragnar said sharply, his vibrant eyes blazing. I fell silent, not knowing what to expect. Then his face softened into a wide, genuine smile and he laughed. "I've been waiting for someone to put that bitch in her place for months! What did you say?"

I exhaled in relief, heart pounding as the my adopted brothers started laughing and throwing me thumbs-up. "She told Sigurd I was lying, I told her I wasn't, reminded her I'd studied for two years in Switzerland and was fluent in French and told her to worry more about Sigurd's wandering eye than my qualifications."

Bjorn pounded the table as he roared and Hvitserk saluted me with a loaded fork and a grin around a full mouth. Torvi bit her lips, fighting not to laugh and even Ivar looked to be struggling not to smile. I felt a rush of relief, but also shame. Again, my mouth opened before my brain could catch up.

"I apologize for being gone so long. I threw myself into my education so I wouldn't hurt so bad, to distract me. I had offers from Stanford and Berkley as well but I chose Columbia hoping I'd be close enough to start seeing father and all of you again on weekends... but I was selfish and too wrapped up in my own pain to worry about anyone else's for a long time."

Immediately the four eldest Lothbroks stood and surrounded me, pulling me from my chair, and for a long moment I was passed back and forth like toy, from one hard embrace to the next, all four deep voices reassuring me that it was okay, not to worry, all was forgiven and welcome home. Tears fell freely from my eyes and Ragnar squeezed me tightly.

"Don't cry," he whispered in my ear. "We are all here now, the family is complete again. Welcome home, little one." He held me a beat longer, then released me. I glanced at the table and saw that Ivar was gone.

"Excuse me," I murmured, trying not to notice the smirk on my adopted brother's faces.

I stepped quickly past one of the bedrooms as I walked towards where I expected Ivar to have gone. Sigurd and Veronique were arguing and I felt a brief moment of embarrassment for having caused it, they were talking about leaving early, and Sigurd was trying to convince her to stay. I snuck past without them noticing me and ducked out the side door. As I'd hoped, Ivar was seated on an old bench, leaning against the side of the house. This area was shaded and protected by large trees, safe from prying eyes. I'd often sit here with Ivar while he'd talked and dreamed of the future, trying to distract himself from the constant pain in his legs.

He glanced up as I approached, a half-dozen emotions rapidly crossing his face before he looked away again, dragging heavily on his cigarette with a mirthless chuckle. I sat hesitantly beside him, I'd not been immune to his moods and rages as a child, no matter how used to them I'd gotten, and he was a man now, no longer an awkward teenager.

"Boarding school," he grunted. "Oxford. You went off and got educated, left us all here."

"Ivar, I-"

Ivar whirled his head towards me, his supernatural eyes alight. "No," he barked. "I get to talk right now, you listen to me, I'm not the same lovesick little puppy following you around anymore."

I faltered, stunned silent. _Lovesick little puppy? Is that how Ivar felt? Had my home life been that bad, that I'd missed this? When had Ivar started feeling this way?_

Ivar continued to glare at me, brows furrowed, watching these thoughts flash in my eyes. He raised his eyebrows at me and took another drag, scoffed.

"So you didn't know? You couldn't look away from my asshole brother long enough to see that I would have died for you back then? That I loved you?!" His voice was rising with anger and my heart started to pound.

"Ivar-"

"And goddammit! I still would... I still do." His voice trailed off, his anger flaring hot but burning out almost instantly. He looked away and stubbed the cigarette out on the bench, tossed it to the side. He resumed looking forwards, ignoring me, glaring smoking holes in the tree trunk a few feet away.

I opened my mouth, closed it again. There was nothing I could think to say right now. Ivar was used to pain, used to excruciating aches in his legs, but I had been the cause of his worst agony.

"Just go." He growled.

"Ivar-"

"Just go!" He thundered, slamming his fist down on the bench beside me, eyes burning with banked rage. He was beyond listening to me right now, it would be best to leave him be.

I dropped my head and, after a moment, nodded assent. He was silent as I stood and walked away.

Sympathetic smiles and glances met me as I returned to the table, Ivar's temper had burned everyone at one time or another, and I was no exception. Sigurd had persuaded Veronique to stay, they were at the table again but she purposefully avoided my gaze as I took my seat and Ragnar motioned for the dessert to be brought out. Whatever, maybe she'd keep her nastiness to herself now. I gaped at my bowl for a moment before looking back up at Ragnar in shock. He beamed back.

"Ragnar? I haven't had this in years... Blueberry Grumble?!"

Ragnar laughed in delight. "My honorary daughter is finally home, of course I'm going to serve her favourite."

I looked back down at the dessert, my heart starting to pound in anticipation. In truth a simple dish, cooked in a basic cast-iron frying pan, Blueberry Grumble was a delicious bastardization of blueberry cobbler, only gooier and richer, the topping a mix of sugar cookie, shortbread and cake; the result of a manic afternoon in the Lothbrok kitchen one weekend when I was nine; I'd been staying over, my parents on a cruise of some sort. Ragnar had let Ivar, Hvitserk and I run wild while he'd laughed from his perch on the countertop, sipping 'adult coffee' and shooing Aslaug out when she'd stuck her head in to investigate the 'wild noises' drifting out. Blueberry Grumble had been the result, so named because Ivar had grumbled about it afterwards, lamenting the blueberry portion when he'd specifically wanted cherries. Fresh tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, Christ, I was a wreck today.

The grumble tasted better than I remembered, and I was mildly embarrassed at how fast I finished my bowl. Ragnar smiled at me from the other end, winking at my reddened cheeks.

I found myself relaxing as the evening wound down. Ivar didn't return, but no one seemed particularly surprised. We retired to the living room, perched on various chairs and couches and caught up, telling stories and adventures. Bjorn's sons fell asleep perched against their massive father, snuggled against his muscular chest and it was the cutest damned thing I'd ever seen. Soon I was yawning too and reluctantly said my goodbyes, not really looking forward to a night alone in my empty house.

Hvitserk offered to walk me home, but then got distracted by leftovers and, shaking my head in amusement, I decided to leave without him. Hearing the door slam behind me I slowed, expecting a sheepish Hvitserk to fall in step beside me.

"Leaving so soon?" Sigurd's voice was like an icy finger down my spine.

I glanced at him, decided to try a polite rebuff. "Yes, goodnight Sigurd."

"But we have so much to talk about," his hand grabbed my elbow, pulling me sharply off balance and I was forced to grab at his shoulders to keep from falling. As soon as I had my balance again, I pulled away angrily, my fist itching to break his nose, but he anticipated this and grabbed my upper arms roughly, shook me like an insolent puppy. He leaned in close, a cunning gleam in his eye and I ran through my options quickly. I must have given myself away however, for he blocked my knee to his groin and continued to invade my space; shit, I was out of practice.

"I missed you," he whispered and my skin crawled.

"What did I ever see in you?" I growled and the teasing light in Sigurd's unique eyes disappeared. His hands tightened and he dropped his head, trying to force his kiss on me. Suddenly, his hands were gone from my arms and my ears registered a painful sounding crack.

Bjorn stood in front of me, fists flexing, looking about ten feet tall. Sigurd staggered away, clasping at his nose, gushing blood and obviously broken. I caught sight of Veronique on the front step, watching us, a strange, calculating look on her face. Bjorn turned back to me, his hands gentle.

"Are you okay?" He muttered, one large hand cupping my cheek.

"Yeah, I'm rusty, I used to be able to defend myself." I was horrified to hear my voice shaking.

A low growl rumbled in Bjorn's chest. "You shouldn't have to against your own family."

"Sera? What happened?" Hvitserk jogged over, eyes wide with concern; he glanced over at Sigurd, now being helped to his car by Veronique and turned back to Bjorn, his expression hard.

Bjorn nodded angrily back, turning to glare daggers at the retreating couple. He looked back at Hvitserk. "She never gets left alone with him, ever."

Hvitserk nodded humbly and reached for my hand. "I'll take you home, if you're okay?"

I nodded, hugging Bjorn and whispering my thanks in his ear. He squeezed me tightly back and yanked my ponytail affectionately.

Hvitserk took my hand, to my surprise, and began to lead me home. I was grateful for his touch, but surprised nonetheless.

"Sorry, I should have been with you." He murmured, and I understood immediately.

"It's fine, you shouldn't have to worry about your own brother."

"He's been weird around you ever since Ivar started watching you."

"What do you mean?" I probed gently. Hvitserk would never make a spy, he wasn't good at keeping secrets, and as long as you didn't show too much immediate interest in what he was saying, you could usually get quite a lot of information from him before he figured it out.

We'd reached my house and I unlocked the door, pushing it open. "Come in?" I invited, but Hvitserk shook his head.

"Nah, I need to get going, but yeah... once Ivar started really watching you, then Sigurd seemed to get interested too." Hvitserk faltered, frowning in confusion. "You did know, right? That Ivar had a crush on you?"

I shook my head in a mix of shame and surprise. _Christ, had everyone seen it but me?_

Hvitserk nodded thoughtfully, "I didn't think you were purposefully breaking his heart, but Jesus Sera, you really didn't know? It was so obvious, Sigurd teased him all the time about it, and when you two started dating, he rubbed it in Ivar's face every chance he got. Christ, the night he popped your cherry-"

"Okay! Okay, Hvitserk, I get it. And no, I had no idea, I mean, I do now... but no, not at the time... with my parents and everything... " I trailed off lamely, god, I'd been an air headed teenager.

Hvitserk gave me a gentle smile. "You were going through a lot of shit with them, weren't you. You're mom's quite the lady."

"Jesus, no kidding. Woman's had a stick up her ass for years, my whole life actually. I... I let her dictate my decisions too much... I... I'm ashamed I let her run over me like that."

"You should be able to trust your own parents," Hvitserk replied thoughtfully. "That's on her, not you." He stepped forwards and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead.

"Goodnight Sera."

"Goodnight Hvitserk." He smiled again and turned away. "Hvitserk?"

He turned back, eyebrows raised.

I swallowed. "Could you tell Ivar goodnight for me too?"

A small grin pulled at Hvitserk's lips and he winked. "Sure thing, kid."

I shut the door behind him and leaned back against it for a long moment, trying to clear my tangled thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

A good night's sleep would have helped clear my mind and clarify my thoughts, but I didn't get one; I tossed and turned all night, falling unconscious for minutes before snapping awake again. Consequently, I was not at my finest the next morning, and was tempted to drag around a blanket over my shoulders all day, retreating to my cave after a half-hearted mission to the kitchen for cinnamon toast and strong coffee. Halfway to the kitchen, I changed my mind to scrambled eggs and bacon, then when I reached the kitchen I was suddenly jonesing for French toast, but I realized it was irrelevant when I opened the fridge and found I had precious little beyond a hunk of cheese and bottle of wine. The cupboard was just as bare, and I bemoaned my lazy ass that had decided to skip grocery shopping until later. I was hungry now.

Christ, unless I wanted to starve, or drag my sorry behind down to the Lothbroks and beg breakfast I needed to make myself presentable and go to the grocery store. After a brief debate I decided to skip begging. I certainly didn't want to run into Ivar right now, not with yesterday hanging over my head. I'm sure Bjorn and Hvitserk had told him what Sigurd had done, and I was torn on whether I wanted Hvitserk to have talked to Ivar more about what he'd told me; Ivar's crush on me, and the way I'd been so goddamn blind about it.

I couldn't keep hitting myself over the head with this, I needed to accept it, accept my cruelty; passive, blind cruelty but cruelty nonetheless and decide what I wanted to do with my future. I wasn't actually starting at Columbia until next year, but in the meantime, what? My loft in LA was waiting for me, I had friends there, a job. Accepting the professorship at Columbia meant I would be leaving all of that eventually, and moving across the country to Manhattan, and I'd meant what I'd said last night about my reasons for choosing Columbia, an easy commuter train or car ride would bring me to the countryside beyond Greenwich, CT, where I was now, but... what about Ivar? I was falling back into my old relationship with the rest of the Lothbrok's, and to be honest, I hadn't been this happy in years, but Ivar and I needed to figure out what was going to happen between us.

Okay, so according to Hvitserk, Ivar had nursed a crush on me, and, looking back at all my photos, with the clarity of years of hindsight, I could now see it too; and, according to Ivar himself, he had loved me and still did, but what about me? What were my feelings regarding the man I'd grown up with?

First things first, I needed a shower and food, I'd never been good at life-changing decisions on an empty stomach. Twenty minutes later I was leaving the house, my stomach growling. I contemplated walking for about a half-second, then turned to my rental, when I stopped short. Ivar stood beside the passenger door, leaning on a crutch, dressed in jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. I swallowed hard, it was difficult, regardless of my confusion, to not find him incredibly handsome. He'd left his hair loose and I was surprised at how long he'd let it get, in school he'd always kept it clipped close. I opened my mouth and closed it again, not sure what to say. Was Ivar here to yell more?

He saw my uncertainty and flashed that incredible grin. "Don't worry, I'm not going to yell this time."

I couldn't help grinning back and hit the fob. The hip little SUV chirped back. "I was going to grab breakfast and some groceries, did you want to come with me?"

Ivar's grin dazzled me again and I felt an long-forgotten stirring in my chest.

I climbed in behind the wheel and looked over at Ivar, relieved to see he seemed to have little trouble getting into the passenger seat. Turning to face me he carefully tucked his crutch into the back seat then faced forwards again, looking a little nervous as he pulled his seat belt on. I started the car, finding myself dazzled again, like a little kid, at all the little lights and doodads that flashed at me. I heard Ivar chuckle quietly beside me and I glanced over to see him smiling at me.

"What?"

Ivar shook his head, still chuckling and turned his gaze forward again.

I'd requested a standard, for reasons I couldn't remember now, and had been quite capable with it on the way here yesterday, but with Ivar beside me I suddenly couldn't do anything right and winced as I managed to make the little SUV jump roughly, protesting my shoddy clutch-work. After Ivar's neck snapped forward another two times he finally burst out laughing and looked over at me.

"Where the hell did you ever learn to drive?"

"If I remember correctly, you, Ubbe and Hvitserk took me out in Ubbe's old Trans-Am and taught me!"

Ivar laughed harder, obviously remembering that fiasco. I'd spent the next whole weekend helping Ubbe replace his clutch, and Ragnar had finally taken me out in his trusty old Lincoln, a land yacht if there ever was one, and managed to teach me the basics. The brief looks of terror on the old viking's face had been worth their weight in gold as I'd careened around the empty parking lot, narrowly avoiding lampposts and curbs.

His patience and gentle instruction had paid off, however, and I'd been on my way to becoming a excellent driver when I'd been uprooted and replanted in Switzerland, my only driving opportunities at the full-time boarding school being during the brief summer vacations back in California. Once I hit Oxford however, I'd had no time or opportunity for driving, riding the tube or taking a cab where I needed to go. Shit, I was hella skilled on a Vespa, but my driving practice was weak.

"Go easy on the clutch there Red, okay, shift and let the clutch out slowly, yeah... give it some gas." Ivar instructed, and I shot him a brief dirty look as I nonetheless followed his directions. He flashed me a smug smile as the vehicle shifted smoothly and began zipping merrily down the road.

"Are you hungry too? Where did you want to eat?"

Ivar looked out the side window a moment before answering. "What about Henry's?"

I jolted slightly, surprised that Ivar remembered... of course he'd remembered. In the last few years of my life here, we'd always gotten our driver, whoever it might be, to take us to Henry's Diner before dropping us off at school. We'd been regulars there, stopping many days after school too; Henry's wife Fanny, an old diner battleaxe if there was one, always doted on us, treating us like her own grandkids while terrorizing half the other customers. I'd always imagined, if I'd stayed here, that Ivar and I would have most likely nursed our hangovers there, or stopped there after whatever party we'd been to, ordering breakfast because it _was_ the next morning, and we'd not yet sobered up. Henry's wife was used to that, had served breakfast to every male Lothbrok at 4 or 5 am at one point or another. In truth I hadn't eaten such good food as Henry's since I'd left, even the Michelin-starred chef at the boarding school hadn't compared.

"Sure," I agreed, turning down a familiar lane.

The look on old Fanny's face was absolutely priceless when Ivar and I stepped inside and she stumbled back for a moment, clutching her chest. I hoped we hadn't given her a cardiac and glanced worriedly at Ivar, who looked similarly anxious. She recovered however and enveloped me in a tight hug that smelled of bacon and coffee, cackling delightedly.

"Sera! It's been years! My dear, it's good to see you!" She pulled away, only to pull me back for a wet kiss on the cheek that touched me to an almost absurd level. Her voice dropped and she spoke again. "I'm sorry to hear about your father, did you ever get to see him before he passed? I know your mother hauled you out of town like a shot that night, we never heard from you again."

Fanny's statement hit me in the guilts and I swallowed hard. "No, I didn't get to see him-"

"Oh well, don't listen to an old lady, I just get to babbling... and you!" She turned suddenly to Ivar, pointing a bony finger at him, brandishing it like a knife. "You didn't leave town, why did you never darken my door again?"

I looked over at Ivar in shock, he'd never been back, not after I'd left? Why?

Faint circles of red stood out on Ivar's cheeks and he looked uncomfortable, glancing at me before looking back down at Fanny, who owned every goddamn inch of her 5 feet and had brought down taller men than Ivar before.

"It uh... just never felt right," he finally mumbled, looking down at his feet, the counter, anywhere but at the two women staring at him.

Fanny flapped her hands at him, "oh, you Lothbrok's... go sit down, your old booth is still there." She bustled away and Ivar turned towards the table. I followed after a pause.

Sitting down was like coming home again, the diner hadn't changed a bit in eight years, it didn't even look like the selection of pies under the glass domes on the countertop had been refreshed. Fanny appeared again like magic, clutching two sweaty water glasses and two menus, but we didn't need them. We'd always ordered the same, Fanny either didn't remember or hoped our tastes had matured.

"Buttermilk French Toast, please Fanny," I smiled and Ivar nodded across from me.

"You want them stuffed?" Fanny asked. Although not an official menu item, Fanny had always indulged us and stuffed our toast with homemade cherry pie filling (Ivar) and apple (me).

"Please." Ivar answered for us this time.

"Hash browns?"

"Yep," I replied. The hash browns were real potatoes here, cubed (barf) for Ivar and shredded for me.

Fanny bustled away, looking wildly satisfied and I turned to Ivar.

"You never came back. Ivar, why?"

He shrugged, not ready to answer. I waited, one eyebrow raised and he finally relented.

"Why? You were gone, who else was there?"

I faltered, deciding to drop it. It was too damn early, and I was too damn hungry to deal with that now.

We made semi-awkward small talk until Fanny reappeared, and then for a few minutes we were too busy swooning over our old favourites. I hadn't eaten such wonderful greasy fare in years and my palette shrieked in delight until I shut it up with more French toast.

I was just pushing my plate away, groaning when Fanny arrived at the table, she'd been scolding some regulars at the counter while we'd been eating but had appeared again like magic just as we finished.

She reached out and grabbed my left hand, staring pointedly at it before raising her sharp gaze to Ivar. "Well, where's the ring?"

Ivar and I impersonated a pair of fish for a few moments, opening and closing our mouths trying to formulate a response before Ivar managed to stammer a 'what?'

Fanny huffed. "Oh please, you dragged your long face around town for months after Sera's momma stole her away. You two always looked so good together, you complete each other. You don't always get a second chance son, don't waste it now."

Fanny's attention was mercifully stolen away right then by the sounds of breaking glass and she whirled and stormed away, ready to raise hell with whichever poor bastard that managed to drop his cup.

Avoiding each other's eyes Ivar and I both stood and he threw some bills on the table. We managed to exit the diner before Fanny was done laying into the chastised man at the counter, his head lowered in humbled sorrow.

This certainly wasn't an alley of conversation I was ready for, not now, maybe not ever, and I was willing to never talk about it again, but Ivar seemed to have other ideas. We'd just climbed in the car and shut the doors when Ivar decided to speak.

"Sera, I-"

"Don't Ivar, not right now." My hands shook slightly as I gripped the steering wheel.

"No Sera-"

"Ivar!" I slammed my hands on the wheel. My heart was pounding and I had to take a few deep breaths. "I just-" I turned to him then, ready to ask for him to just drop it, to just not say what he was about to say because _goddammit_ I was just barely holding it together right now, but I didn't get the chance.

Ivar had turned and was leaning towards me. I barely had time to register the tortured look in his eye before he closed the remaining distance and pressed his lips to mine. An almost painful jolt shot through me, Ivar's lips were unbelievably soft and his hand curled against the back of my head, into my hair, pulling me hard against his mouth. He started out gentle, but deepened it rapidly, pressing his tongue at my lips for entrance, his low groan answering my shuddering moan as I opened my mouth for him and felt him press inside. I'd never felt like this before, never been kissed like this before and my heart raced, my body ignitied with desire.

We just _fit_ together, our lips moving together with delicious tenderness, just the right amount of heated friction. Shit, the man knew how to kiss, and my body responded like it never had before. His skin was soft as I cupped his cheek, and we explored each other's mouths with an edge of desperation, hunger born of years of want and waiting. I pulled away finally as my head began to spin from oxygen loss and Ivar rested his forehead to mine as we panted together, trying to collect ourselves. His eyes were closed but then he raised them to meet mine and I saw they were black with desire, the pupils blown wide. Still breathing hard he pulled his hand from the back of my head to my chin and brushed his thumb along my bottom lip.

"Fuck," he groaned. "I've wanted to do that for a long time."

I didn't know what to think, what to do. There was no denying that Ivar's kiss had felt amazing, but my thoughts were still so cloudy about him. I'd grown up with Ivar, I couldn't possibly be attracted to him, what if this wrecked the best and longest friendship I'd ever had? Would that spoil the bonds I'd forged with Bjorn, Ubbe and Hvitserk? They were like my own brothers, doting on me and protecting me like I really was their baby sister. _He's already told you his feelings, it wouldn't wreck anything._ Cursing my indecisiveness, Ivar had always been the decision maker in our dynamic duo, I fumbled for the key and chanced a glance at him. To anyone that didn't know Ivar, he would look expressionless, maybe a little fierce and intimidating, but I knew him and I could see the faint tension around his eyes, he was wondering the same as me, had he just wrecked our friendship, reached too far?

"I just need some time to think," I mumbled, my cheeks burning, my gaze locked on the centre of the steering wheel. Ivar reached over and I let him softly cup my chin, with fingers far too large and strong to be so gentle, and turn my head towards him. I kept my eyes lowered, scared to look into his eyes, was he willing to give me time? He'd waited years already.

"Sera," his voice was pleading, a tone I'd never heard from him before and I looked up in surprise.

Ivar searched my eyes, forehead furrowed. He looked... scared, he looked like he expected me to throw him out of the car and drive away forever and my heart squeezed; I hated to see that anguish on his face, to know that I was the cause, but I respected him too much to lie and I wouldn't speak before I knew what to say.

Ivar seemed to see this in my eyes, and nodded slightly. His thumb skimmed my bottom lip once more before he pulled his hand away.

"You needed to go shopping?" He asked quietly, letting me off the hook.

I nodded, lip still tingling from his touch. "Yeah."

The drive to the market was silent and I finally reached over and flicked on the radio. Ivar immediately wrinkled his nose and shot me an incredulous look.

"What the hell is this?"

"Rap."

"It's shit."

"It's Tupac."

"Ugh." Ivar reached over and began randomly punching at buttons, skimming rapidly through the stations.

"Hey!" I pawed at his hand, trying to drag it away, but Ivar was determined and gently pushed me away.

"Watch the road, Red."

"Then quit playing with my music."

"My ears can't take that anymore. There." He settled on a classic rock station, which wouldn't normally bug me, except it was playing the world's most annoying song, in my opinion anyway, "Every Breath You Take" by the Police.

"There," he declared, sounding satisfied.

"Jesus Christ Lothbrok, really? The stalker song?"

"What?"

"You never heard that? Sting himself said he never understood why people think this song's so romantic, he wrote it about a stalker or the government spying on you or something."

"Bullshit!" Ivar sounded personally offended.

"Google it," I replied simply, trying to hide my smile. If there was one thing Ivar hated, it was someone correcting him. I could see him side-eye me for a moment before pulling out his phone and I forced myself to gaze impassively forward, concentrating on the drive. After a few moments I heard his outraged scoff and couldn't stop a giggle from escaping. I glanced over and Ivar was throwing me a massive stink-eye, pouting like a child and I couldn't stop my giggles from growing into full-fledged roaring, smacking my hand on the steering wheel.

I chanced another glance at him, he was still pouting, but had resumed glaring forwards. I waited a moment, then flicked the radio back to Tupac.

I parked at the market and glanced over at Ivar, who'd remained silent the rest of the drive, even through "How Do You Want It'.

"Are you coming in?" I asked.

"No, sorry Red," He gestured to his legs and I understood immediately.

"Bad today?"

"No, no more than usual, just don't want to make them worse."

"You scared one of Fanny's friends is going to be in there and demand to see my ring too?" I teased, wanting to know his answer more than I was willing to admit.

Ivar threw me another stink-eye and waved a hand at me dismissively, like a king releasing a thrall. "Just go, Red."

"Don't be fucking with my stations while I'm gone," I threw over my shoulder as I left.

I returned twenty minutes later, having just grabbed the essentials, ignoring the surprised glances that came my way; apparently not everyone in the neighbourhood knew I was back yet.

Ivar was twiddling on his phone when I arrived, and I caught him watching me in the rear-view mirror as I packed the grocery bags into the back.

I jumped back in and turned the key, immediately loud polka music filled my ears and I screeched, reaching over to blindly slap at a hysterically laughing Ivar while I frantically pounded at the radio, finally silencing it. I collapsed back against my seat and caught my breath, I should have know the little prick would do something like this. Ivar was still howling when I decided to retaliate. Leaning quickly over I sucked my index finger and jammed it directly in Ivar's ear canal. His laughter turned into an roar of indignation and it was my turn to laugh. Ivar scrambled away, flicking and digging at his ear as if I'd just squirted liquid shit in there and I couldn't help but laugh all the harder. Finally, he stopped swiping at the side of his head and threw me another dirty look. I turned the key and found first gear.

"Fix the radio, asshole." I laughed.

Sullenly, Ivar poked a few times at the radio and a generic classic rock song filled the cab, it was a decent compromise and I threw him a sunny smile, earning a glower back.

We were almost back when Ivar spoke again, and although he tried to sound neutral, I heard the edge in his voice anyway. "Were you ever going to tell me what Sigurd did last night?"

 _Shit._

"It was no big deal-"

"Bullshit Sera! He tried to hurt you!"

"He was just being a prick, as usual; don't worry about it, after Bjorn broke his nose I doubt he'll try anything again."

"I don't like how he looks at you."

"Did you ever?" I counter coolly, and as the words leave my mouth I wonder why I'm pushing him like this.

Ivar was silent for so long I began to think he'd either not heard me or was refusing to answer, but then he murmured, so low I almost missed it.

"No."

A strange flutter hummed in my chest and I was absurdly grateful to see my driveway dead ahead.

I parked the car and jumped out, trying not to let my hands shake. _What was the big deal?_ Ivar had never liked Sigurd, why was this such a revelation? It wasn't, I realized, but I was aware now of so much more than before.

I tried, but couldn't carry all the grocery bags at once and was forced to leave three behind, I hated making second trips and grumbled under my breath all the way to the house. I put the milk, eggs and other perishables away before turning to go back outside and froze. Ivar was just making his way into the house, carrying the remaining three bags and I rushed at him.

"Ivar! I can do that!"

"So can I, I'm not that goddamn useless," Ivar retorted.

I spun to set the bags on the counter and heard the door shut behind me. My heart sank slightly, Ivar hadn't even said goodbye.

I turned around and inhaled sharply. Ivar hadn't left, in fact, he'd moved closer to me, within a few feet. There was an unfamiliar mix of emotions on his face, but I saw that same tortured look I'd first glimpsed in the diner parking lot. Ivar looked... nervous, for lack of a better word, but he didn't give me long to dwell on this because he closed the remaining distance between us and stopped, only inches from me now.

He was breathing harder than his exertions merited and his eyes seemed even more supernaturally mesmerizing. My own breathing started getting heavy, my heart beginning to race. His hand came up and cupped my cheek, the tenderness in his touch surprising me. His eyes dropped to my lips, his own parting as his breathing picked up even more. He wanted to kiss me again, and Christ, I wanted to kiss him too.

A jolt shot through me as our lips touched and I reached up, threading my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, pulling him closer, opening my mouth and deepening the kiss, a shiver running through me as Ivar groaned against my mouth, his arm wrapping around me, crushing me to his chest. Like at the diner, this kiss held an edge of desperate want and my pulse thundered in my ears, goosebumps breaking out on my skin. Ivar pulled away first, resting his forehead to mine, breathless as he moaned my name, the anguish in his voice cleaving my heart.

I suddenly realized that I didn't want to ever hear this misery in his voice again. The thought of causing him pain made my own heart ache. All the excuses I'd fed myself since I'd come home evaporated, drifted away like smoke and a fierce desire took its place. Damn the consequences, damn the reasons why not, damn the potential obstacles, Ivar was baring his soul to me right now, and my soul was answering back.

A shudder ran through Ivar as I cupped his face and pressed my lips to his again, I couldn't find the words right now to tell Ivar what I was feeling, so I poured them into my kiss, into my touch against his cheek and he groaned as he understood what I couldn't yet say. With my free hand I curled my fingers into his belt loops and began to pull him gently along with me, leading him towards the living room as I stepped backwards, knowing exactly where I was going without needing to look. Ivar followed me, his muscles trembling as he continued to kiss me, his desire and need finally allowed to show, allowed to the surface.

I reached the couch, my calves bumping against it and Ivar pushed me down, lowering himself gracefully on top of me, dropping his crutch to the ground. Both hands free he roamed them over my body, one threading into my hair while the other curled at my waist, trailing underneath my shirt, his hands tracing fire along my skin. I arched up underneath him, my body igniting at his touch. His hips ground against me and I spread my legs, letting him settle between them, his cock rock hard against my core.

Breathless, we pulled apart, lips parted as we panted, eyes locked together. Ivar cupped my face, trailed his thumb gently along my bottom lip then dropped his head, capturing my mouth in another soul-stealing kiss. His hips thrust against mine and I moaned against his mouth, reaching down to pull at his belt. I needed him inside me now, I'd already waited too long.

Ivar shuddered as I pulled his jeans open and my fingers brushed his tender skin.

"I love you." He groaned against my mouth.

The words were out before I'd even known I'd said them, and I realized that I had too, all along. "And I love you."

Ivar moaned, a sound of such ecstasy, relief and contentment that another shiver ran through me. There was no end to the things I would willingly do, just to hear him make that sound again.

His hands began clawing at my leggings as I wrapped my hand around his shaft and started stroking. A ragged groan rumbled in his chest and he pumped his hips into my hand, shuddering.

"Shit..." he mumbled. "I don't have a condom."

"It's fine, I'm covered," I gasped breathlessly, even if I wasn't it wouldn't have mattered right now, I needed him inside me and I'd deal with it later.

"Baby," he breathed, dropping his head into the crook of my neck. Almost violent with lust, he yanked my leggings down my thighs and I clawed them the rest of the way off while Ivar pulled at his jeans enough to free himself. There would be no tender lovemaking right now, no soft and slow exploration of each other, no murmuring gently against sweat-slicked skin, bodies moving in that age-old dance; we'd waited too long, years too long and our very souls were screaming for the other, our need pulsating, too great to push away anymore. We were frantic for each other, Ivar knocking my hand away, grabbing himself to line up between my legs and we cried out in unison as he pushed inside me, filling me with one hard thrust.

Ivar shuddered, fighting for control, his whole body trembling. "Fuck," he groaned.

I rolled my hips and he hissed, muscles going rigid. "Don't baby, fuck... you're so fucking tight... just give me a minute." I understood his dilemma, the moment he'd penetrated me, stretching me so deliciously, I'd fought back my own climax, waves of pleasure threatening to drown me. With another moan, Ivar began to move, pulling almost completely out before filling me again and I could only whimper against his shoulder.

"Goddammit Sera," he groaned, "you're going to... you feel so good," his spine arched as he started to thrust, stroking deep, making my toes curl in mounting ecstasy.

I was no prude and I thought I'd experienced good, even great sex before, but Ivar's body over mine, him moving inside me was far and away the most intense and amazing I'd ever felt. I wanted him so bad, wanted to hear him groan in my ear as he surrendered to his release, hear him moan as I surrendered to mine.

"Ivar..." I gasped, curling against his chest. I felt so safe and loved and desired in his arms, I'd never felt so connected to someone before and my thoughts blanked out as a wave of ecstasy crashed over me, the building sensations in my core exploding and spots danced in my eyes as I gave in to my climax, feeling Ivar begin to swell inside me, his thrusts becoming erratic, groaning roughly, grunting helplessly in my ear as he followed me. He slammed against me once more and roared, muffling his cry against my throat and I felt his pour inside me, his seed warm, coating my walls, filling me completely before trickling out between my legs. Ivar collapsed on top of me, panting, a full body tremor running through him and we could only lay there, exist for long moments, waiting for our senses to return.

Eventually, he began to move again and Ivar's lips were gentle along my jaw as he trailed up to my mouth, then he pressed his lips to mine in a greedy kiss, hand clawing into my hair.

As his cock slowly softened and withdrew from my body Ivar groaned and sat up, pushing himself away to lean back against the couch and swing his legs over. Still breathing hard he rested his hand on my thigh, thumb stroking my skin. After a few beats I sat up as well, Ivar reaching over to grip my hip and pull me onto his lap. I settled on his thighs, straddling him and threaded my fingers into his hair, leaning forwards to kiss him again. I was already addicted to his taste and I felt him begin to harden beneath me again. I rolled my hips and he hissed, dropping his head back against the couch.

"Fuck Sera, you feel amazing," he breathed, hands still gripping my hips; at his gentle direction I lifted myself enough to line up and sink down onto his shaft again, moaning at the stretch. Ivar groaned raggedly, hips beginning to thrust up into me, hands holding me down for deeper penetration. Our eyes met and held, Ivar's lips parting as he panted, gazing up at me with what I could only describe as wonder... awe perhaps, like he couldn't believe that we were here together, connected as one. Like magnets we were drawn to each other, leaning closer, eyes still locked together until we were breathing the same air, inches from each other's face, the energy between us nearly crackling with intensity. Keeping one hand hard on my hip he wound the other around my back, crushing me to him and we curled into each other, burying our heads into the crook of the other's neck, panting for breath as passion crashed over and enveloped us again.

Ivar moaned my name like a benediction, over and over again, breathless in my ear as we strained together, as I rolled my hips with each of his thrusts, his cock touching sweet places inside me and igniting my body, causing fire to race through my limbs. I'd never felt this rush of desire and emotions with a man before, never felt another fill me so completely, touch me so ardently. Ivar and I worshiped each other, exalting in the other's ecstasy, our passion building and building, irresistible until it overwhelmed us and we arched our spines as we peaked together, crying out in shared bliss, Ivar's cock brushing my womb as he pulsed deep inside me.

Breathless I collapsed against Ivar and he bowed backwards, settling against the couch, cradling me to his chest. His hand stroked gently up and down my spine and for a long moment neither of us could speak, trembling faintly from the aftershocks. I didn't want this to end, but I also didn't want to stay on the couch either, so after a few more minutes of contented bliss I pushed myself gently upright. Ivar raised his head with me and gazed into my eyes questioningly.

"Let's go up to my bedroom," I murmured and the briefest look of relief flashed through Ivar's eyes, like he'd expected me to suddenly start demanding he leave. Lust flooded his gaze again, that and a fierce possessiveness, a hunger and need to stay close and connected with me. I felt the same, butterflies battering gently inside my belly as I started to imagine the pleasures that awaited us once we slowed down and started to really enjoy our bodies joined together, having burned off this initial desperate desire. I reached over and lifted Ivar's t-shirt, pulling it up off his body and he lifted his arms in cooperation, watching me with gentle curiosity. A wicked grin touched his lips when I pulled the shirt back down over myself and lifted myself off his lap, standing up. He reached out and snagged the edge of his shirt, keeping me from stepping back, his fingertips grazing along the bare skin of my outer thigh.

"Where do you think you're going?" He growled, low and deep, more of a rumble felt than heard.

I couldn't stop a giggle. "Go ahead upstairs, I left groceries everywhere and the door unlocked. Do you want Hvitserk or Ubbe busting in looking for us?"

Ivar narrowed his eyes briefly, now that we had tasted each other, experienced each other, I knew Ivar's natural possessiveness would begin to really show, even with my sibling-like banter with his brothers. I was going to have to get used to being pulled down into Ivar's lap, or back against his chest, his thick arms wrapping tightly around me when he didn't feel like sharing anymore and I was equal parts excited and exasperated by the thought. He was going to have to make peace with the notion that I was still allowed to interact with other males, especially the men I considered brothers.

I leaned forwards and murmured low in his ear. "No one but you."

Fierce desire and satisfaction flared in his eyes and his lips pulled into a predatory grin. I stepped back, slapping gently at his knee, his jeans still bunched up there.

"Go ahead, I'll be right up." I turned before he could stand, knowing Ivar didn't particularly care for his sometimes awkward movements to be watched by others. I heard him start to move behind me as I disappeared into the kitchen. It was quick work to put the rest of the groceries away and they honestly could have waited, but I'd needed some time to process what had just happened. This was a huge step for Ivar and I, and although he'd already freely admitted that he'd loved and desired me even as teenagers, these feelings were new to me. Still, while my acknowledgement of my feelings was new-found, I realized now that I too had desired Ivar, even before I'd been dragged away from my life; that my heart had quickened around him, I'd wanted to kiss him, curl up close to him, be with him in every way and had somehow managed to bury all this until my return to my childhood home.

What would we have been like if I'd stayed? Even if my father and Aslaug's infidelity had been found out, but I'd fought my mother, refused to leave my life? I'd like to think Ivar and I would be married now, perhaps a young child, two, maybe even three added to the mix. While I'd never given any real thought to marriage or children these last eight years, a strange longing, a desire was starting to grow in me. _What was going on?_ I had a career waiting, a life... I'd never wanted domestication before... and even if I did... did Ivar?

I shook my head, I'd been down here long enough already; Ivar was going to start yelling down the stairs for me. I couldn't wreck this right now with thinking too much. What was going to happen was going to happen and while I didn't fully subscribe to the notion of fate, I didn't disregard it either. I'd been called back here to my past and things were falling back into place, aligning like stars. With a will born of years of discipline, years of forcing my churning thoughts and sorrow into fuel for school, for academic distraction, for burying the misery that was my life, I pushed away these musings and walked to the door, locking it firmly. For now... right now, I was just going to exist and enjoy; I would think about where my future was headed later.

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking in the diffused light of morning. For as long as I could remember, I had always woken up feeling slightly cold, a little chilled, no matter how many blankets I covered myself with. This morning, for the first time, I felt warm. Ivar's arms were around me, holding me securely against his chest. His head was nuzzled into my hair, his body pressed to mine, his breath warm on my skin. I was pleasantly sore in all the right places and my mind began to drift as I felt myself relaxing back into semi consciousness.

I'd rejoined Ivar in my bedroom, found him already reclined on my king-size bed. He'd reached for me, his touch both hungry and tender, and pulled me down, rolling to rise above me. For a long moment we'd just gazed at each other, then Ivar, resting on his forearms, raised his hand and stroked it gently along my cheek. Lowering his head, he'd pressed his lips to mine in a kiss that started soft and rapidly deepened, his tongue delving into my mouth, swallowing my moan as I arced beneath him.

We'd made love slowly, exploring each other, tasting; drawing out our ecstasy, lingering in our bliss. For hours we'd basked in each other; alternated with stretches of rest, dozing, curled together; or hot and fast sex, growling in our desire; then periods of just laying together, limbs tangled, talking about everything and nothing; learning of our lives apart and, after awhile, Ivar had gently tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear and begun to speak about the future, what he hoped would be _our future_ , and I didn't feel any unease or panic, just anticipation and excitement. Gradually, exhaustion had overwhelmed us and we'd fallen asleep, foreheads touching, breathing the same air, fingers interlaced.

We'd shifted in the night, and now, rather than facing each other, Ivar lay behind me, spooning around me, protecting me; his breathing was slow and regular and I found myself marvelling both at the enigma of the man behind me and the surprising direction my life seemed to be going. The few times I'd allowed myself to wonder about the Lothbroks and what I'd been ripped away from, I'd always assumed that they had moved on completely, forgetting about me and the small impact I may have had on their lives. I knew now this was blatantly wrong; as we had laid sprawled together, tremors still ghosting through us after Ivar had brought me to my third shuddering peak in his arms before he'd allowed himself to pour inside me, he'd sighed into my hair and whispered.

"You have no idea how long I've dreamed of this... of you."

I wasn't used to this vulnerable and open side of Ivar, even as teenagers he'd had that arrogance unique to boys on the cusp of manhood. Even at his most pain-wracked, his most low points that I'd been privy too, he'd held a certain part of himself back. I hadn't known at the time, too wrapped up in my own troubles and too naive, but I sensed now that I was seeing all of Ivar, that he was trusting me with all of his heart and the thought, to know that the most closed off, hard to decipher member of the Lothbrok clan was all but laying himself out at my feet, both warmed me and frightened me. Not that I feared Ivar or his moods, but I feared my own subconscious response. Would my heart and soul reciprocate with the same fervour as Ivar? Would I finally stop standing in my own way?

I shook my head faintly, even half-asleep, limbs liquid from the most amazing night of sex I'd ever had, I was still thinking too much, still analyzing my situation like a student working on her thesis. This wasn't a matter for my head, this was up to my heart.

"What are you thinking about?" Ivar mumbled, voice hoarse.

"How do you know I'm thinking?" I countered, mildly embarrassed; I was supposed to be floating in a sex coma, not breaking down every subtle nuance.

"I can hear the gears turning," Ivar replied, reaching a hand up to ruffle into my hair gently. "And you're always thinking baby, you never stop."

He meant it teasingly, but my ears burned all the same. I sighed, arching my ass back against Ivar's groin, hoping to pull his attention away. He gave a throaty growl and ground back but then grunted. "Stop trying to distract me, what's bothering you?... Do you regret... what we-"

I rolled suddenly in his arms, realizing what he was about to say. My hands cupped his cheeks, feeling faint stubble.

"No." I said firmly, not missing the faint loosening of tension in Ivar's brow. I rolled on top of him and Ivar settled back into the pillow, his hands dropping to rest on my hips. The covers fell off my shoulders, my hair an auburn curtain over my chest and Ivar gazed up at me like his own personal heaven.

"I was just... it was easier to deal with everything if I told myself that I was the only one really hurting, that all of you just went back to your lives like I'd never been there... it kept me from losing my mind some nights."

Surprise flashed in Ivar's eyes and his hand came up, dwarfing my face as he cupped my jaw. "It affected us," he murmured, thumb trailing over my bottom lip. "I'm not going to lie, I was furious at my mother for cheating with your father, but... your mom fucked us over way more than they ever did."

It was true, and for years I'd allowed her to dictate me and my decisions; it was a shame I wasn't sure I'd ever exorcise.

Ivar continued, his voice soft, simply explaining, not accusing. "Bjorn wouldn't stop demanding that father hire an investigator to find you, he was convinced you'd been abducted against your will. Ubbe didn't smile for a month and I heard Hvitserk cry himself to sleep for weeks."

I trailed a random pattern along Ivar's chest, "and you?"

Ivar exhaled and turned his head away for a moment, focussing on something across the room. "I got lost," he finally answered. With a faint sigh he turned his head back to face me, but his eyes gazed at my abdomen. "I started hanging out with assholes and thugs, smoked and drank, partied, got in fights, skipped school." His hands began to trace gently along the top of my thighs, a soothing gesture for him. "Shit got bad, I started blacking out, losing time. I'd stay away from home for days at a time, drove Ragnar insane with worry. Finally... last year of high school, I hadn't totally flunked out yet but there was no way I was going to graduate on time... I stumbled home, bombed out of my mind... I'd tried heroin for the first time, shot up with some friends."

My stomach dropped and my pulse started to pound. Ivar had been courting death. I took his hand from it's worrying along my thigh and he squeezed it tightly.

"Ragnar was waiting for me, grabbed my shoulders and threw me against a wall. I don't remember much beyond that except him asking me one thing, and it burned right into me, stopped me cold. _'What would Sera think, seeing you like this?'_ I was horrified... humiliated. You'd have taken one look at me and started crying and I couldn't do that anymore, not with that in my head. I stopped everything cold turkey, sweated and shook for a few days locked in my room with my brothers taking turns outside watching over me, got a tutor and moved into the library and graduated, on time and with almost the same grades I'd had with you. I went to UConn and got a Master's in Business... I'm not entirely sure yet what I'm going to do with it though."

I stared for a long moment at Ivar, unable to formulate a response. He'd walked right to the edge, and thoughts of me had brought him back. He'd turned himself completely around because of a simple question. ' _What would Sera think, seeing you like this?'_

Ivar saw all this on my face, I'd never been good at hiding my emotions and thoughts from him and our eyes met as his hand again cupped my jaw. For a long moment neither of us spoke and I still didn't know what to say, but then Ivar's thumb grazed my bottom lip and he whispered.

"I've always loved you Sera, it's always been about you."


	3. Chapter 3

Later I would wonder if this was the path my life was meant to take regardless of my choices, if I would have always ended up in this bed with Ivar, bodies slick from making love, listening to him confess his everlasting love to me but at the moment, my thoughts deserted me and a warmth rose in my chest instead. Tears filled my eyes, trailing down my cheeks as I blinked rapidly and I felt Ivar's thumbs brush them away, his hands gently cradling my face. He pulled me down to him, traced his lips along my forehead and down to my cheek before capturing my mouth in a passionate kiss. The warmth in my chest ignited and heat shot through my limbs.

For the second time in as many days I couldn't find the words to reciprocate Ivar's declaration, couldn't formulate my own affirmation, so I let what I couldn't say pour into my kiss, into my touch, into my body as I curled over him, ground down onto him and his answering groan, a ragged exhale against my lips was confirmation that he understood. Suddenly he rolled, pinning me underneath him, his kiss becoming almost violent, claiming me without mercy. His grip was iron on my wrists as he held my hands down on either side of my head and his body moved like a snake over mine, kneeing my thighs apart and driving his cock inside me. He swallowed my cry, lips crushing mine with bruising force. He was taking possession of me, claiming me like an animal as his, dominating me and leaving no doubt who I belonged to and it was exhilarating. I'd always known that Ivar had a dark side, a dominant, bordering on cruel side that he couldn't or wouldn't always control and I welcomed it now, exalted in it as it came out to play.

"You. Are. Mine." Ivar growled, grunting with each thrust, punctuating his words with a rough snap of his hips.

With the exception of Sigurd, when I'd been too young and inexperienced to know better, I'd never really gotten off on being dominated and overpowered, being claimed as property as my body was taken by my master but this was different; this was Ivar and I and my heart raced with excitement as the thought of him above me, driving into me as he called me his, as his heart and soul melded to mine just as surely as mine to him. He could claim dominion over me now, but in truth we were becoming one, we belonged to each other, and we were master of the other's body and soul just as much as we were of our own. I yearned to reach up and cup his cheek, intoxicated by the fierce love in his eyes.

Ivar pulled away and my body shivered at the loss, but he only turned me onto my stomach, pushed my legs apart and drove into me again. His hand tangled into my hair as I threw my head back with a shriek of mingled lust and surprise and he pulled my hair as he slammed into me, arching my spine, hitting deep inside, brushing secret places and sending the tingling in my limbs into a full body flare of ecstasy. His rough grunts into my hair only further inflamed my blood and I felt my orgasm rising frighteningly fast.

"Say you're mine!" Ivar demanded, his voice strained, guttural, like an animal mimicking human speech. "Say you're mine, this is all mine!"

"I'm yours," I heard myself purr, my body shuddering with the first waves of my climax. I closed my eyes and gave into the sensations, reduced to simply existing, simply feeling. My orgasm washed over me, waves crashing down on me and I heard myself keening, Ivar's roar joining me as his surrendered to his own release, slamming into me once more, groaning as he poured inside me, body shuddering, his muscles trembling. I felt his breath panting into my hair, warm on my skin then his weight as he collapsed on me, chest heaving.

"Fuck... baby," he groaned, barely articulate, breath rasping in his chest.

I couldn't stop a mewl as he rolled off but Ivar didn't go far, pulling me back into his arms and curling his body around me. Blindly, for his head was buried in the crook of my neck, his lips trailing fresh fire along my throat, he reached down for the discarded covers and pulled them up to cover us, snuggling closely, a startling change from the rough and demanding lover he'd been only seconds before. My body tingled with residual pleasure and I melted back against Ivar, almost purring as he nuzzled into me, giving a long, sighing exhale and seeming to drift off into sleep. I was almost ready to close my eyes myself when Ivar started to stroke his fingertips gently along my shoulder. His lips began to press butterfly kisses to my skin and I felt his exhaled breath ghost along my throat.

"Please baby don't leave me, not again."

Sudden tears sprang to my eyes. "I'm right here, Ivar."

"Marry me Sera," he whispered, so low I almost couldn't hear.

My heart started to hammer, heat and tingles shooting through my limbs, an adrenaline rush, a defensive reaction. _Marry me Sera. Marry Ivar? We'd only just reconnected, it's only been two days..._

"I know it's too soon..." Ivar trailed off, fingertip trailing along the tender skin where my neck and shoulder joined, sending a shivering thrill through me. "But... I can't wait any longer... it's been years. I want you so badly... I can't lose you again."

"Ivar, I-"

"Sera-"

"Ivar." He fell silent. "I'm not going anywhere... I mean, I have to return to LA to sell my loft and pack up, but I've decided, I'm staying in Connecticut, I'm living in this house, you don't need to worry about me leaving again." I could feel Ivar shaking his head behind me, his arms tightening and I rolled to face him.

The uncertainty and... _fear_ in his supernatural blue eyes slayed me, cut me right to the quick. I had done this to him, I had made him afraid to let me go, made him fear me leaving, of ripping his chest open again, tearing his heart out and crushing it once more. In truth, I feared the same, feared Ivar leaving _me_ , was terrified to go back to my lonely, Lothbrok-less life again, scared shitless of the prospect of returning to the solitude of my past and not feeling this incredible bond and connection we'd already forged; our souls mated and tied together.

But, was I ready for this giant step... was I ready to _marry_ Ivar?

"No," I whispered, closing my eyes.

"No?" Ivar's voice was stark, sounded like he'd been kicked in the guts.

"Not no... just not now," I clarified, opening my eyes again, locking my gaze with his. "It's too soon Ivar... we need time, just need to enjoy this, each other. We don't need to get married to stay together."

The petulance endemic to the Lothbrok men in general and Ivar in particular flared in his eyes and I bit back a smirk at his attitude. The last thing Ivar needed was to think I was laughing at him. Faint stubble scraped my palm as I cupped his cheek and he lowered his gaze from mine, eyelashes dusting his cheekbones.

"I'm not leaving, not here and not you; but give this time, you might decide you don't want to marry me."

Ivar scoffed, turning his head into the pillow and away from my palm. His thick hair fell over he cheek, hiding his face from me. "Never happen," he grunted, but I heard a telltale lightness in his tone, the deadly seriousness had passed.

"Might," I teased gently, pretending to think about it. "Maybe I'll get tired of your taste in music and pull the plug."

Another grunt, but I could hear the smile in it.

I dug suddenly into his armpit, tickling and he rolled away with an indignant squawk, sounding like a surprised chicken. He'd never been a fan of being tickled, which had made for endless amusement for me growing up, knowing I could usually win any argument or disagreement if I dared to attack him this way. He writhed away, half-laughing, half-roaring with outrage, flapping his arms at me, trying to stop me from reaching him and I started laughing in earnest, it was so much fun to see the most serious of the Lothbrok brothers reduced to a squealing ball of flailing limbs, his deep voice hitting higher and higher notes as I continued my assault.

"Stop! Dammit Sera, stop!" He hollered, face going red.

"Make me!" I countered, doubling down.

With a burst of effort Ivar grabbed my wrists and heaved himself forward, pinning me back onto the mattress. His hair was tangled around his face and he was panting in indignation and exertion. For a half-second I feared that I'd pushed him too far and he was genuinely pissed off but then his face broke into his rarely seen but dazzling sunny grin and he dropped his head, nipping roughly at my neck and now it was my turn to start squawking.

"Ivar! Ivar, quit it!" I pleaded, ducking my head desperately but Ivar was bound and determined to return the favour and started blowing raspberries against my skin, making my initial squawks morph into shrieks. I thrashed, trying to snake my body out from underneath him and he laughed and blew harder, pinning me down with his hips. I needed to try a different tack and so I angled my hips upwards, brushing against his groin. Ivar stuttered against me, not expecting that and grunted a ' _no you don't'_ before attacking me again. I tried a second time, and grinned savagely when Ivar groaned roughly and I felt him begin to respond, his cock starting to harden. Seeing my chance I locked my legs around his hips, pressing against him and grinding and Ivar finally pulled away, a mixed grin of delight and exasperation on his handsome face.

"You scheming little hellion," he growled fondly, throwing his head back and arcing his pelvis down against mine.

"Your little hellion," the words were out of my mouth before I even realized I'd said them and for a half-second my heart stopped.

"My little hellion," Ivar agreed, rough lust mingling with fierce love in his seductive voice and then his lips were on mine again, stealing my breath and my mind.

Later I drowsed, sprawled across Ivar's broad chest, feeling his calloused hand trace tender circles along my shoulders. My body was sore in a dozen different places, but I revelled in the sensations. Ivar was equally rough and gentle as a lover, swinging between the two extremes without even changing positions at times and my heart, body and soul were singing in satisfaction. Our bodies had perfect rhythm together, completely in sync and I'd always scoffed at people who'd claimed to find their equal, their soulmate, but I realized now what they'd meant. Ivar's touch was so soothing I almost fell asleep again but suddenly a phone started to ring. Ivar rolled away from me and I grumbled at the loss, burying into the residual warmth left by him in the blankets. Before I could settle however, Ivar rolled back, his cell phone in his hand. He gazed at the screen for a moment then smirked and holding it out for me.

"It's for you."

Puzzled I took the cell from him and peered at the screen. _Ubbe._ Throwing Ivar a confused look I swiped the screen.

"Hello?"

"Sera?" Ubbe didn't sound surprised.

"Yes," a laugh answered me then I heard muffled scuffling on the other end. I pressed the speaker button and held the phone away for Ivar to hear too.

We listened to the muffled voices on the other end and I couldn't help a snicker. It sounded like Hvitserk and Ubbe were fighting, demanding the other pay up for losing the bet.

"What bet?" I mouthed and Ivar shrugged.

More scuffling then finally an exasperated ' _give me that!'_.

"Sera?" Bjorn this time.

"Bjorn?" I teased. "Are you babysitting today?"

"Looks that way," he sighed then I heard a muffling yelp and Bjorn hiss ' _quit it!'_. He returned to our conversation. "Ragnar wanted help working on his Chevelle, but now the office is calling him in. I'm making brunch and you can have some if you get down here before Hvitserk eats it all. I think Ubbe's hoping you'll help him with the car."

I glanced at Ivar who shrugged again, ' _whatever you want baby'_ his gaze said.

"Save us some food," I replied and rolled my eyes at Ivar as I hung up.

"I think they miss you," I teased.

Ivar scoffed, "miss you, more likely." He rolled suddenly, laying over top of me and all thoughts of brunch and mechanics left my mind. His hands came up and cupped my face, thumb tracing the corner of my mouth while he just gazed at me languidly until I started to squirm under him, feeling nervous. He dropped his head and pressed a kiss to my mouth, pulling back before I could deepen it. Rolling off me he folded his arms behind his head and I finally spoke.

"I'm going to have a quick shower, there's another bathroom down the hall."

"Not together?" Ivar smirked, lifting his head and goddammit, I was tempted.

"I'll never let you leave if we do."

A grin pulled at Ivar's lips and he nodded, wiping his hand across his mouth before sitting up. "True... get going baby, real life awaits."

A half hour later we entered the Lothbrok home and Ivar took my hand as he led me towards the kitchen.

Ubbe and Hvitserk sat at the small table and looking up at us as we walked in, Hvitserk spoke first, his mouth full. "You aren't walking too bow-legged-" he cut off suddenly, coughing as Ubbe smacked him in the back of the head.

Bjorn stepped away from the stove, holding out a loaded plate to me and smiled. Ivar held out his hand for his plate and Bjorn only tapped his palm sharply with a spatula. "Yours is over there, whatever you can wrestle away from the Garbage Gut," he gestured to the plates on the table and turned away, ignoring Ivar's dark glower. As I sat Bjorn appeared again, dropping a pile of fresh, still crackling bacon beside my crepes, the spatula cracking Ivar's hand again as he reached for one. Bjorn set another plate on the table for his brothers and Ivar attacked with surprising speed, snatching the whole plate before Hvitserk had even begun to reach.

"Hey," Hvitserk protested. "Don't take it all."

"Give me some crepes and some eggs and you can have some," Ivar replied, crossing his arms over his chest. Ubbe snorted into his coffee, his plate was empty and Ivar allowed him to take a few pieces of bacon for himself, which only inflamed Hvitserk more.

"Hey!" He growled, pointing his fork. "Why does Ubbe get some, he didn't have to give you any food!"

"Because I like him," Ivar teased. "And he's not hogging it all!"

Hvitserk pouted and I couldn't stop myself from laughing. I stood and took my plate, moving to Ubbe's side for protection as Ivar and Hvitserk glowered back and forth. Finally, Hvitserk relented and pushed a plate towards Ivar, piled with crepes and eggs. Smiling triumphantly Ivar pushed back the bacon plate, now with substantially less on it. Ubbe grunted and reached over, snatching a few extra pieces from Ivar and dropping them on Hvitserk's plate, glaring at both younger brothers, daring them to continue.

"Children!" He grumbled as he settled back beside me, but I was too busy swooning over the food.

"Shit, Big Bear... you should open a diner, forget this whole 'family business' racket." I called over to Bjorn who now leaned against the counter, eating his own.

"Thanks, little Red. You wanna waitress for me?" He grinned lightly as Ivar bared his teeth in a possessive growl.

"Pay me in unlimited crepes and it's a deal," I shot back around a mouthful.

It wasn't until later, as I leaned over the fender of Ragnar's 1970 Chevelle, talking with Ubbe underneath it with Hvitserk tinkering with one of his motorcycles a dozen feet away and Ivar sitting in the Chevelle idly sharpening a knife did the question I was both hoping to avoid and hoping to get out of the way was finally brought up. I didn't remember if Ivar remembered what I'd told him last night, and the way his shoulders tensed as Ubbe spoke hinted that he hadn't or perhaps had expected me to change my mind.

"So, have you decided what you're going to do yet?" The question was so innocuous at first and out of left field that for a moment I even forgot what Ubbe was talking about. I'd drifted into a feeling of nostalgia, remembering many weekends spent like this that I'd almost forgotten that so much time had passed, and rather than Ivar and I having school Monday morning, I was being asked if I'd chosen one life path over another.

Fortunately, I'd decided last night, and the peace and tranquility of this morning had only convinced me further that I was making the right choice. "Yeah, I've gotta book a flight back to LA soon-" I paused, startled, as Hvitserk dropped a wrench, looking up at me with sad eyes and I hurried on to head off any more misunderstanding. As I opened my mouth to continue I heard Ivar exhale a ragged sigh.

"No! No guys, just to pack up and everything; get my loft ready to sell... I decided I'm staying, I'm moving into dad's old house."

A hand slapped my ankle. "Don't scare me like that Sera!" Ubbe chided gently, his slap turning instantly into a fond caress. Hvitserk grinned widely at me before turning back to his bike and I glanced nervously through the windshield at Ivar. He was watching me intensely, his eyes alight and I stood, moving over to lean in the door and murmur to him.

"I told you last night, remember?"

Ivar dropped his eyes, "I thought you'd changed your mind."

"No," I whispered, touching his cheek, hearing the faintest groan from his lips. "I'm staying."

Ivar lifted his gaze to mine, fierce possession and love blazing in his supernatural blue eyes and my heart skittered in my chest. It was a heady feeling, seeing another look at you that way, and I could only hope that Ivar saw the same truth in my gaze.

His full lips curled into a lazy grin that did nothing to slow my heart and I was about to lean closer for a kiss when Ubbe called my name. I air-kissed at Ivar instead and stood, returning to my task.

Ivar nudged my shoulder, gently waking me and I raised my head slowly, blinking. The sounds of the airplane, a dull white noise before, returned to a low roar and I straightened, glancing around.

"We're landing," Ivar leaned over and murmured against my hair, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. I felt him smirk against my skin as I shivered.

To my chagrin, I'd fallen asleep not long after we'd taken off, bound for LAX and my old home. Flying always made me drowsy, but Ivar's warmth and strength beside me hadn't helped, lulling me into a long nap.

"Are your legs okay?" I mumbled, looking down. I had no problem riding coach, but had chosen first class to give Ivar more leg room.

"They're fine babe," he replied, scratching his fingers gently against my scalp and it felt so good I almost purred. He laced his fingers through mine as we felt the plane begin to descend and I felt a small thrill, as I always did, thinking about the giant pressurized tube we were currently sitting in, being brought down out of the skies in a controlled drop.

My friend Britt was going to pick us up and she texted just as we made it through arrivals that she was going to be a few minutes late. Honestly I had expected this and pulled Ivar over to a small alcove to sit.

"Britt's running late," I explained. "Do you want me to grab you something to drink?"

Ivar made a face, he hated being waited on, took it as a direct affront to his legs, but didn't comment other than a shake of his head.

I'd given Ivar the heads-up about my friend, but I was still nervous for them to meet. Britt was the quintessential California girl, tall and blond and beautiful. Although we were fairly similar in build, I had the soft, pale qualities of a scholar, while Britt looked like she lived outside, on a surfboard, in a never-ending shampoo commercial. She was the fun-loving life of the party, with guys heads swivelling to follow her wherever we went. Her phone was constantly buzzing with offers to grab a drink, dinner, marry some guy or bear his children; okay, maybe not the last two, but I was definitely her DUFF and had always been leery of bringing guys I was interested in around her. We'd been friends since my first year at Oxford, and had met on my first short summer vacation in LA and stayed friends ever since, but still my confidence around her was slightly shaky.

"What's wrong?" Ivar asked softly, his fingertips skimming the back of my hand, making me jump.

I shrugged, feeling a sudden weight of worry hit me, worry I'd not let into my mind until now, with California's soft, fragrant breeze back in the air. Ivar took my hand, squeezed gently until I looked up.

"I haven't told my mom that I'm leaving yet."

"She's not going to take the news well." It was a statement, not a question and I nodded.

Shame suddenly threatened to steal my breath and a shudder shot through me. That women may have ripped me away from my life eight years ago, but I'd been the one to let her keep me away.

Ivar read my thoughts well and yanked on my hand to get my attention. "Stop it," he said lowly. "You're not letting her rule you anymore, that's what matters. Don't beat yourself up, you should be able to trust your own mother, it's not your fault she's like this."

His words made sense to my head, but my heart still wasn't ready to let go of this guilt, I felt the strange need to punish myself for my past actions, and, again, Ivar headed me off.

"Sera, stop punishing yourself, we were kids and shit happened. You're your own woman now and your mother has no control over you anymore."

My exhale was shaky, but Ivar's comforting grip on my hand straightened my spine. I could do this, Ivar was with me and he wouldn't let me drown. I lifted my head, managing a smile and was pulled roughly towards Ivar, his lips colliding with mine, stealing my breath in a deep and fiery kiss. Pulling away only far enough to rest his forehead to mine he whispered fiercely.

"You are stronger than you think, and even if you're not, I'm here for you."

"Shit Ivar," I mumbled. "Were you always this perfect?"

Ivar grinned, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. "Of course I was, you were just oblivious."

My phone beeped then, interrupting my response and I grabbed it, grateful for the distraction. "She's here."

Ivar followed me through the large doors and I scanned the crowd for a familiar blond. Britt usually drove whatever monster truck her latest boy-toy owned, so I doubted I'd be able to find her vehicle. Then, there she was, standing up in the cab of a flashy topless red Jeep, only needing a set of surfboards attached to the roll cage to complete the look.

"Sera!" She shrieked, oblivious to the crowd that glanced her way and leapt gracefully from the Jeep. She engulfed me in a bear hug that smelled of Clinique Happy and I couldn't stop a few tears of happiness. Britt was a good friend, and I was going to miss her. Pulling away we both started to giggle, wiping tears away from each other's cheeks and it was only then that I remembered Ivar waiting patiently at my side.

"Britt, this is my boyfriend, Ivar Lothbrok. Ivar, this is my best friend, Britt Harper."

Ivar held out his hand politely, but Britt grabbed him into a bear hug too. I caught sight of his wide, surprised eyes before Britt's curtain of blond hair flew across his face and I couldn't hold back a small giggle.

Pulling apart, Britt smiled widely at him and slung her arm across his shoulders. Flirting was as natural to Britt as breathing, and she honestly didn't even realize she did it; if you had a Y chromosome, she flirted, that was just her, so I ignored her friendliness. Ivar, however, gracefully ducked out from under her arm and moved to my side, his arm circling my waist.

"You want to stop and eat, or go straight home?" Britt asked, not even noticing Ivar's departure from her side. It was hard to ever be mad at her, she was like a big puppy.

Ivar remained silent, letting me choose but I knew he'd prefer to go lay down and rest.

"Straight home Britt, it's been a long flight."

"Of course!" She chirped, reaching for the carry-on bags at my feet. I climbed into the back with the luggage while Ivar sat in the passenger seat and soon we were flying down the road; the wind noise, radio, and Britt's happy chatter effectively keeping us occupied until she stopped in front of my old loft.

I felt a brief flash of sadness. I'd just started settling in and making the loft my own when I'd gotten word about my dad dying. But it didn't matter now, I'd chosen Connecticut and I'd chosen the Lothbroks and I didn't regret it.

I managed to shoo Britt out with a promise of texting her tomorrow and turned back to see Ivar leaning against the kitchen counter. _He must be exhausted._

"You want to take a bath, or a shower? I was going to order in some food."

Ivar nodded and I led him down to the guest room. The tub was large enough for three people to comfortably soak in and I turned on the water, looked up to see Ivar holding up a bottle and reading it with an amused look. Catching me watching him he raised an eyebrow. "Peony and Blush Suede? Really? And who the hell is Jo Malone?"

"What? That's expensive stuff, what do you soak in? Turpentine and motor oil?"

Ivar smirked and set the bottle back down. "Don't you have anything manlier?"

"No," I laughed and fixed Ivar with a pointed look as I squirted a generous amount into the filling tub. "Get in."

Ivar rolled his eyes at me but didn't argue and I left him alone.

I returned later to find the manly Ivar Lothbrok settled back in the tub, enjoying the scent of peonies and blush suede far more than he'd want his brothers to know about. I had two surprises for him and cleared my throat to get his attention. His eyes opened slowly and my heart skipped at the gentle smile he favoured me with. He lifted his hand, dripping pink-toned water and reached for me. I settled on the tub edge and patted my knee, biting back a grin as Ivar jumped when my first surprise leapt up onto my lap.

"Ivar, meet Lemmy."

Ivar eyed the other male in my life and Lemmy eyeballed him back. He quirked a grin, "hey... Lemmy."

Lemmy hissed politely back and Ivar's lips pulled back in a wolf smile. He leaned forwards and whispered conspiratorially, with no real malice in his voice. "Lemmy, this may be your mommy, but I'm the one she calls Daddy."

Lemmy raised a paw to slap Ivar across the face but pulled back at the last moment, booping Ivar's nose instead. Ivar sat back with a laugh.

"So this is the famous Lemmy that's coming home with us?"

"Yep," I lifted Lemmy up to my face and he rubbed my cheek in return. "Britt was cat-sitting while I was gone."

"He looks like he's wearing a tuxedo," Ivar remarked. "And is he half-Lynx? He's huge."

"I don't know what breed he is, he appeared on my doorstep a week after I moved in and never left. I ordered some Chinese, it should be here soon."

"Mmmm." Ivar's eyes drifted shut again and he leaned back against the tub edge.

"You going to be okay to drive back?" Rather than flying, I'd chosen to drive back to Connecticut, bringing with me my treasured truck, a graduation gift from my stepfather, who wasn't that bad of a guy, even if he did marry my snake of a mother and I couldn't bear to sell it.

Ivar's eyes remained closed. "I'm fine Sera, stop worrying."

I opened my mouth to reply but the doorbell stopped me and Lemmy jumped off my lap to run for it.

"I'll be right out babe," Ivar murmured.

I'd just gotten everything unpacked and laid out on the table when Ivar walked out and I suddenly wasn't hungry for Chinese anymore. His hair was still wet, and left long on his shoulders, faint water droplets glistened on his bare chest and he wore only grey sweatpants low on his hips. Mouth dry I handed him a plate and watched as he picked and chose from the cartons before moving to sit in the armchair I motioned him over to. If he suspected anything, he gave no sign and frankly I didn't care. Before he was able to settle the plate on his lap and start eating I attacked, pulling the plate away from his hands and setting it aside.

"Hey-" Ivar protested, falling silent when he saw the look in my eyes, his pupils dilated in response and he inhaled sharply. Biting my lip I trailed my fingertip lightly down his abs until I reached his sweats, then paused, waiting for permission. With a rough exhale Ivar lifted his hips and I yanked the pants down, letting his rapidly hardening cock snap free.

"Food's going to get cold-" he mumbled, watching me avidly as I dropped to my knees.

"Forget the food," I muttered back, dropping my head.

Ivar hissed as I took him in my mouth, gripping the rest of his rigid shaft in my hand and stroking downwards at the same time. A muttered curse escaped his mouth and his hand curled into my hair, tightening as I flicked my tongue.

"Shit baby-"

Encouraged, I continued, taking more of him into my mouth and relaxing my throat. I bobbed my head, swirling my tongue as I twisted my hand and felt Ivar shudder under me; the sounds he was making, his rough groans and shuddering moans were turning me on like crazy. I swallowed around him again and again, taking him as deep as I could, tasting his salty precum. Experimentally I touched his balls and he groaned, hand tightening further in my hair, guiding me up and down. As I continued to suck and lick at him his fingers trembled against my scalp and his whole body started to shudder.

"Sera-" he rasped. "Shit baby, I'm gonna come-"

I bobbed my head one more time, cheeks hollowing and Ivar exploded, roaring, back arching against the armchair. I swallowed his pulsing seed and gave him one more gentle lick as he collapsed with a groan and I pulled away, lifting my head to see him sagged against the chair, eyes half-closed, panting. His hand trailed down out of my hair and cupped my cheek. He swallowed hard and met my eyes.

"Shit..." he trailed off and I pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, setting his plate back down on his lap. Before I could move away he grabbed at my shirt front and pulled me close, pressing his lips to mine hard for a moment before gently letting go and gazing into my eyes. "I love you," he murmured.

My heart quickened at his words, I would never tire of hearing him say that and I returned them with a whisper.

The next morning Britt was at the door and I left the loft soundlessly. Britt had texted the night before and asked to take me out this morning for a girl's day. I'd agreed, letting Ivar hang out and relax for the day while Britt and I caught up, or, more accurately, while Britt talked and I answered.

"Ivar still sleeping?"

I nodded, I'd pulled out of his embrace earlier, leaving a kiss on his cheek and he'd tried to pull me back against him, murmuring my name. His eyes had opened, fixing me with his intense cobalt stare and I began to wonder if he was going to insist I stay home with him, but he only pulled me in for another kiss and bid me a good day before rolling over and back to sleep.

"He's good for you, you're good together." Britt said suddenly and I started in surprise. Britt, although intelligent, wasn't the deepest thinker and this was the first time I could remember her passing judgement on any guy I was with.

She continued, flooring me further as we walked out to her Jeep. "The way he looks at you, wow... was he the one you grew up with?"

"Yeah." I was still half-speechless.

She nodded, "he's the one, right?"

Her sudden gift of prophecy was almost spooky and I turned away before she could see my blush.

Britt took me to this new smoothie bar she was in love with and then wanted to shop for a few hours, I was good for anything but was also getting antsy to go back to Ivar. And, although I was procrastinating, I did have to start the process of putting the loft up for sale.

"Who's that realtor Jenn used?" I asked as Britt held up a halter top against me, eyeing the color against my skin.

"Oh, I've got her card with me," she set the top down and started to root through her purse.

"You looking for a place?"

Britt blushed, dropping her gaze. "I didn't want to say anything but..." she held up her left hand and I stared in shock.

"You're engaged? Britt! I'm sorry, I didn't even notice!"

She shrugged graciously. "It's okay, you're jetlagged."

"Who? No, wait... Patrick, right? That's his Jeep you're driving."

Britt nodded, her cheeks darkening.

Everything fell into place and Britt saw the dawning realization on my face.

"We're moving in together and Patrick was with me when you threw that birthday party for Speller and he just loved your loft, but I didn't want to make you feel obligated -"

"NO! Britt this is perfect!" I grabbed her hands and spun us in a circle. This solved everything. "The last thing I wanted was to go back to Connecticut and still have the loft here empty, this is great! Of course I'll sell it to you!"

A huge weight had just been lifted, I could think of no one better to buy my loft. Patrick was a quiet and steady grounding force for Britt, and she brought sunshine into his subdued life. "We just have to get it all lined up with a realtor."

Britt handed me the card and grabbed my wrists. "Let Patrick and I take you two out for supper tonight, to say thank you."

I grabbed my phone and texted Ivar, I wouldn't commit to a dinner without his consent.

 _Hey handsome._

 _Yes my lady._

I smirked and turned away from Britt, who was screeching happily into her phone to Patrick anyway and hadn't even noticed.

 _I have good news! Britt and her fiancé want to buy the loft._

 _That's great, you were worried about leaving it empty._

 _They want to take us out for dinner tonight to say thank you. Are you in? If not, we'll stay home and snuggle._

 _I'd rather snuggle with you, but sure, what time?_

I glanced over at Britt.

 _I don't know yet, she's talking to Patrick and I don't think I can get a word in._

 _Let me know when you do. Are you coming back soon? I miss you._

 _Are you bored?_

 _Lemmy keeps giving me dirty looks._

 _Rub his belly._

 _I tried, btw you need more Band-Aids._

 _Back soon, tell him to behave._

 _He won't listen and he's staring at me again._

We stopped at the realtor's office and began the paperwork. It would only take a few days to complete the transaction and most likely the final draft would be ready for us to sign by late tomorrow. I was on cloud nine by the time I got back to the loft and my good mood only increased when I stepped inside and saw Ivar relaxing out on the deck, the sun warming him, Lemmy sprawled across his ankles. He raised his head when I stepped out, lifting his sunglasses and fixing me with a dazzling smile.

He patted the space beside him on the lounger. "Lay here with me."

I grinned naughtily. While out with Britt today I'd found a cute little bikini and was wearing it underneath my shirt. With a flourish I ripped my shirt over my head, watching Ivar's eyes widen in surprise.

"Wow," he murmured, reaching up to trace the fabric. It was a simple olive green but it offset my hair and was detailed with a braid of black fabric around the cups. It was the skimpiest swimsuit I'd ever worn and I would have felt nervous if not for the awe I now saw in Ivar's eyes.

"You like it?"

"Oh yeah," Ivar's voice was husky. His hand curled at the back of my head and he started to pull me down for a kiss when a terrific crash at the front door startled us both.

"What the fuck?" Ivar muttered, craning to look over his shoulder.

I had no idea either until my phone started to go crazy.

"Oh shit, it's my mother." My heart started to hammer as I leapt to my feet.

"Sera?" Ivar's voice was sharp.

"Just stay here, Ivar. Let me talk to her." Without waiting for his answer I hurried to the door. I hadn't bothered to read the texts from her because her voice through the door was enough.

"Sera Ingrid Torunn Madsen! Open the door!"

 _Shit._ Steeling myself, I turned the knob, ready to brace the door if she tried to force her way in.

"Mother, welcome." I couldn't keep the dry tone from my voice.

"What is this I hear?" She demanded. "You are selling my loft and moving to Connecticut?"

" _My_ loft, and yes." My old fear of my mother, the shaky respect I'd always afforded her, the tolerance of her bad moods was gone and I realized that I didn't need her shit anymore, if fact, this revelation had been hovering in the back of my mind ever since the Lothbroks had welcomed me home so warmly. This part of my life was over, and I was strangely calm about it. Her hand came from nowhere and before I could even process what she'd done, the old witch had hit me twice, a rough backhand and stinging slap. The flaming pain in my face only served to strengthen my resolve.

Her eyes dropped to my chest and I realized I'd forgotten to put my shirt back on.

"Your pig of a father finally dies and you think you can start acting like this? Dressing like a whore, moving back to his immoral house?" I heard Ivar behind me and her eyes locked on him like a Patriot missile. "Ah! And attached to one of her _bastards_ now! The woman that ruined our family! And the crippled one, no less!"

Now I saw red, she could rage and howl at me, but leave Ivar out of this. I heard Ivar's low growl behind me and moved fast. My hand answered her vile words, surprising us all as it slapped her cheek, snapping her head sideways and leaving an immediate red mark. "Never say that again." My voice was low and dripping venom, scaring even me. "You aren't fit to even speak to him, or any of the Lothbroks, so shut your mouth."

Her indignation and righteous anger kept her from feeling the slap too strongly but her temper flared anew all the same.

"You little bitch!" She shrieked.

"Mother!" I roared. It was the first time I'd truly yelled back at her and she fell silent, heaving and glaring at me with barely leashed fury. I felt Ivar close behind me, but sensed he was giving me the opportunity to put my mother down first. "I am an adult and you have no say over what I do. The loft is mine, you gave it to me and signed it over to me completely. I am free to sell it and I am free to move home."

"You! You will never-"

"Continue with this and I will call the police, mother. Do you think all your Country Club second wives would like to know that you were dragged downtown in handcuffs for _assault and battery?_ " Brief horror flashed through her serpent eyes and I knew I'd finally hit her where it hurt. She wasn't raging at me leaving because she'd miss me, she didn't truly care what I did, she just wanted control; but the spectre of felony charges was enough to make her drop this bone. I doubted I'd heard the end of her bullshit, but I'd won this battle.

"Leave, I do not ever want to see or speak to you again, my life is with Ivar now." My voice was implacable, final and Ivar would tell me later that I sounded just like my father at his most serious and resolute.

Her chin quivered briefly as she considered her options, then, with one final poisonous glare over my shoulder at Ivar, and one last fiery snarl at me she whirled and stormed away. I slammed the door behind her, locking it and releasing a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. After a moment I turned back to Ivar. I wasn't sure what to expect after my mother's raging, after her dismissing him as _Aslaug's crippled bastard,_ was Ivar angry at me too?

His fingers caught my chin and he lifted my head. Reluctantly I met his eyes and my breath was stolen by the look in them. Fierce love and respect shone in Ivar's eyes, the supernatural cobalt fairly blazing like a lantern, like a god's eyes. He gazed at me with admiration and pride. My mother's words to him hadn't mattered, my reaction to them had.

His hand was rough in my hair as he pulled me to him, crushing his lips to mine. We couldn't get close enough, clawing at each other before finally we separated, breathless, our foreheads touching. For a long moment we only stood there and I felt the awesome weight of Ivar's love for me, let my love flow to him.

"Fuck, I love you baby." Ivar whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was warm on my back and I tipped my head with a smile. Although I was full-blooded redhead, I didn't burn to the degree of some of my brethren and was taking advantage of this balmy day to get a bit of colour while I puttered in the yard. I wore the bikini top Ivar had liked in LA and a pair of ragged jean shorts. Ivar and I had returned a few weeks ago, after dragging out the drive from Silver Lake to Greenwich into a ten day long road trip. We'd stopped at all manner of lurid tourist traps, drove as far as we felt like on any given day, and stopped when we wanted to. Ivar and Lemmy had even become friends, with me snapping more than one picture of a sleeping Ivar draped by a massive black and white cat around his neck like a purring travel pillow.

I'd rented a U-Haul trailer and hitched it to my baby, a 1974 Toyota Land Cruiser, restored and jacked-up, a gift from my stepfather, a decent man who either thought he either deserved penance or was love-blind; that was the only reasons I could think for him hitching himself to my mother's crazy wagon. I'd been loathe to sell it or leave my Cruiser behind, so I'd chosen a road-trip and Ivar had come with me, reluctant to be separated that long while I traversed the whole country.

The back of my shoulder itched and I scratched at it absently, pulling away sharply when I remembered why it was itchy. A few days ago I'd gotten my first tattoo, a stylised Valknut to match Ivar's on his bicep. I'd never been a tattoos-matching kind of girl before, but I loved the design, or maybe I loved the soft skin of Ivar's arm when I'd lay beside him and trace it with a finger tip. Either way, I loved my new ink and couldn't stop glancing at it every time I passed a mirror.

Ivar had been trying to spoil me with jewellery too, and had presented me with a delicate bracelet a few nights ago, it slid gently up and down my wrist as I worked in the dirt, half with a plan, half without a damn clue. I'd never been particularly green-thumbed, but my father had kept a few small but beautiful flowerbeds and I wanted to preserve them. As I worked, my mind drifted. I didn't regret leaving LA, I didn't regret returning to my childhood home. It felt like old times, before I'd been dragged away, before I'd stayed away, only now, instead of Ivar watching me from afar, and me stupefying ignorant of his love for me and my own hidden love back we were blissfully happy together. I remembered Ivar's quiet proposal in our first days together, his quiet, desperate plea to marry him, scared that I would leave again. The prospect didn't scare me, then or now, it excited me, but things were going well right now, why jump the gun?

There were only two problems now, my mother and Sigurd. I'd finally blocked my mother's number, she'd been calling and texting me non-stop, and I would have been willing to listen if each contact was just a continuation of the same shit fit she'd started throwing in the doorway of my loft. She'd settle down eventually, I hoped and maybe then I could talk to her. My other worry was Sigurd. I was spending more and more time with the Lothbroks, and them here, us falling back into our old habits of hanging out in the other's houses at all hours, usually just poking our head in the other's doorway and yelling 'hey' before wandering in and making ourselves at home. Ivar half-lived with me already anyway, and it wasn't unusual to find Hvitserk or Ubbe, Bjorn or even Ragnar sprawled on a couch playing Xbox. But Sigurd showed up at his father's some days too, and if I was over too I'd feel watched, uncomfortably exposed; Sigurd's snake-in-the-eye iris locked on me more often than not. He and Ivar didn't and in fact, had never, gotten along but Sigurd and I had dated briefly when I was young and stupid, and he seemed intent on reminding Ivar about that at every opportunity.

It would have been sad if I hadn't felt a buried aggression in Sigurd, a burning need to humiliate his younger brother.

My cell beeped and I glanced at it.

 _We'll be back soon, appointment went ok._

 _Just ok?_

 _We'll talk about it later._

I frowned, Ivar had an orthopaedic specialist appointment today, the same man who'd given Ivar relative freedom of movement these last few years with experimental gene and stem cell therapy. Ivar tended to overdo it, working his legs past exhaustion just because he was Ivar, and I wondered if the doctor had noticed some type of injury or degeneration. He'd refused me taking him and asked Ragnar instead. I tried not to let it bother me, Ivar had always been touchy about his problems, something that mattered little to me; I loved the man, not his legs.

I heard the gate swing open and, assuming it was Ubbe or Hvitserk, whose bikes I'd seen in the Lothbrok driveway earlier, stayed focussed on my task. A cold finger of dread flicked up my bare spine when I heard his voice.

"Looking good baby."

I whirled in surprise. Although I'd heard Ivar purr these very words countless times before, this wasn't Ivar and this time the compliment didn't make me tingle with heat. Sigurd stood a few feet behind me, arms crossed over his chest and I cursed myself for not checking out my visitor sooner.

"Sigurd." I moved to stand, legs half-asleep from crouching and bit back a gasp as Sigurd moved like a shot, one second there, the next right in front of me. His gaze was predatory and, as I staggered slightly, his hand shot out, gripped my elbow.

"Let me go." I said quietly, hoping he couldn't hear my heart starting to pound.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "No." He replied and his grip tightened. Mad now I tried to wrench my arm free. Imagine my shock when Sigurd's other hand came out of nowhere and cuffed me hard across the face, rattling my teeth and making me see stars. "No." He repeated. "You listen to me now." The hand that had hit me drifted to my breasts and I shivered in disgust as he touched them. His hand grew more insistent then and I started to struggle, my heart hammering. Sigurd had always been a big-talker, but I sensed violence in him now. He hadn't come to talk and he would not be denied.

"So pretty," he murmured, cupping my breast and I tried to wrench away again, but Sigurd yanked me back hard, and I was still disoriented from his first hit. He glared down at me and a reptilian _slither_ passed through his eyes. Suddenly, his foot swept mine out from underneath me and I fell hard, Sigurd making sure he landed directly on top of me to knock my breath out.

"Sigurd-" I was starting to get really scared now, this was too far, even for Sigurd. His hand drifted between my legs and I tried to kick, earned another rough slap.

"What, you'll give it up for my crippled brother but not me? I had this first, it's mine!" And his hand ripped at my zipper, breaking it.

Tears of horror and frustration choked my voice. "Sigurd-"

He grabbed my hair and slammed my head back onto the ground and I felt my body go slack as I fought to stay conscious. Dimly I felt him ripping my shorts down, the other hand drifting up to close over my throat. I struggled, reaching to my side, clawing desperately for my cell phone. Last week Ivar had been tinkering with my phone, and when I'd asked what he was doing, he showed me a new app he'd installed. An emergency app. He'd loaded his number, Ragnar's and his brother's numbers (excluding the brother currently intent on raping me) as contacts. All I had to do was press the power button three times rapidly and an SOS text went to every number, with my GPS location and a five-second video recording. I'd thought it a little extravagant and unnecessary before, but I would be kissing Ivar's feet for this now.

I snagged the phone, pressed desperately at the buttons, I didn't know if it worked but I started yelling anyways.

"Ivar! Help! Bjorn, Ubbe! Anyone! Help-"

Sigurd's hand clamped over my mouth and he hissed at me to be silent. His hand had torn my underwear away and I could feel him rubbing at me, making sick sounds in his throat. My gorge rose and I renewed my struggle. Sigurd's fist hit me again, one hard hit to my gut, and a second to my eye, stunning me two new ways and I fell slack beneath him, stars dancing in my clouded vision, barely conscious of what he was doing. Faintly, through the ringing in my ears I heard his zipper, felt him hard and prodding at my core.

Helpless tears flowed down my cheeks, I was still too disoriented to fight back and I was about to raped, attacked and assaulted, my body taken as I lay helpless. I felt him push inside me, heard his shuddering groan and found the energy to scream as he started to thrust.

"Sera!" Deep voices shouted, breaking through the haze. I heard pounding footsteps, raised voices, roars of rage.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Sigurd was yanked bodily away from me, ripped from between my legs and thrown. I briefly saw a blonde giant launch after him, recognized Bjorn, heard his enraged screaming, saw his fists start to connect with Sigurd's struggling form and then arms were around me, pulling me close.

"Sera! Sera, I'm here." Ubbe's voice was quiet and soothing. Another appeared, and I saw Hvitserk above me, face twisted in shock and horror, pulling off his jacket to drape over me. He nodded to Ubbe before turning to Bjorn and Sigurd, although whether he meant to save Sigurd or help Bjorn kill him I don't know.

I cried then, really let loose, curling against Ubbe's chest. He murmured soothingly to me, his hand shaking as it stroked my back and I clung to him desperately, wishing Ivar were here.

Suddenly Bjorn's yelling changed in pitch, became a shout of pain and surprise. I looked over Ubbe's shoulder in time to see the oldest Lothbrok brother stumble away from Sigurd, holding his upper arm. A bloodied Sigurd now held both Hvitserk and Bjorn at bay, swinging a knife in a deadly arc. Bjorn staggered and fell to his knees and Hvitserk dropped beside him, then my tired mind finally fell silent and everything went blissfully dark.

Pain woke me later; pain in my face, pain in my stomach and pain between my legs. I couldn't stop a pitiful whimper as my memories returned in a rush and felt someone squeeze my hand. I tried to open my eyes, but it was difficult, I was tired, I wanted to sleep. Gradually I focussed on Ragnar, sitting beside me; he was the one holding my hand and he was looking down at me with tear-streaked cheeks, devastated.

"Sera, I'm so sorry." He whispered, his voice breaking.

I swallowed and tried to speak. "You didn't do... anything wrong, Ragnar."

"I didn't drown that bastard at birth, that's what I did wrong." Ragnar's voice dripped with venom. "I curse that seed, curse the wicked monster it grew."

"Ragnar," I whispered. Sigurd hadn't choked me hard, but my throat was dry and made speaking difficult. I slowly looked around, trying not to move very much. I was in my bedroom, in my bed, wrapped securely in soft blankets. Bjorn sat at the foot, bandages covering his shoulder and upper arm. I remembered his yell of pain, the blood and knife Sigurd wielded and I tried to sit up. Ragnar pushed me gently back down.

"Bjorn?"

My brother stood and sat at my other side. His face was pale and drawn. His large hand cupped my cheek. "Sera, how are you feeling?"

"Sigurd hurt you? Did he stab you?!"

Bjorn glanced at his arm. "It's nothing."

"He hurt you, Bjorn!" I cried, forgetting for a moment my own situation.

"Sera. I'm fine. It's you we're worried about." Bjorn's thumb stroked my cheek and he glanced anxiously at Ragnar, who shook his head.

It hit me suddenly, what they worried about. "Where's Ivar?" If Ragnar was here, then he and Ivar had made it back home, so where was he? And, for that matter, where was Ubbe and Hvitserk? Why was I at home and not in the hospital?

Ragnar read me like an open book. "Sigurd's gone. After you passed out and Bjorn was injured there was confusion and he escaped. When Ivar and I made it back Ivar was hysterical. We'd received your text and listened to your screams... the whole time. When he learned Sigurd had escaped Ivar went mad and took off looking for him. He took my car... I sent Ubbe and Hvitserk after him, to try and find him before he found Sigurd, but I couldn't leave you and Bjorn needed treatment too. I'll take you to the hospital if you'd prefer, but I wasn't sure if you'd want anyone to see you."

"What about the police?" I croaked.

Bjorn's face went hard and he answered instead. "We'll deal with Sigurd."

A chill went down my spine. The Lothbrok's business dealings weren't always on the up and up and I knew that both Ragnar and my father had been involved in illegal matters years ago. I didn't know if he still was, or if any of his sons had gotten into it, but it sounded like they had decided on a 'family retribution' type of solution.

I was relieved that Ragnar hadn't taken me to the hospital. There would be too many questions I wasn't ready to answer, too much whispering about Harald Madsen's daughter being attacked and _did you hear who did it? Sigurd Lothbrok! That's right, her boyfriend's brother!_ _Yes, her ex-boyfriend from years ago, before that whole family scandal!_ I could feel stitches pull as I spoke, and I knew that I'd been treated as well as I would have been by any nurses. My hand came up and touched my cheek, felt the new sutures. Ragnar captured my fingers gently and pulled them away.

"I sutured your wounds, I learned advanced first aid years ago because the boys were always hurting themselves and it was easier to stitch them up myself."

I nodded, feeling myself sinking back to unconsciousness. I couldn't stop a yawn and felt Ragnar squeeze my hand again, felt Bjorn's stroke across my uninjured cheek.

"Rest," Ragnar murmured. "We'll be right here, you're safe."

As I let the blackness take me again one last thought floated back up and I fought to wake again but lost. _Ivar, he'll kill Sigurd._

Then I knew no more.

When I woke again there was only Ragnar with me. He was holding my hand, and didn't notice right away that I was awake; his face was troubled, eyes faraway. Seeing me watching him he quickly disguised his worry, favouring me with a gentle smile and squeezing my hand.

"Ivar?" I asked again, although I already knew the answer, if Ivar was here, he'd be beside me.

Ragnar shook his head and exhaled as he glanced over his shoulder. "I sent Bjorn out to look for him too."

Hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I blurted what had been gnawing at my mind, "Ragnar, I'm so sorry-"

"For what, child?" Ragnar frowned in confusion, trailing his hand along my cheek. I know I should fear him, fear the touch of any man after Sigurd's attack, but I didn't; I trusted Ragnar with my life.

"I-" I grappled for the right words, my head still fuzzy. "I... I was wearing a bikini, I was distracted and not paying attention-"

"Stop." Ragnar's voice, although still quiet, was sharp. "A bikini?... You think you are to blame?" He sounded incredulous, then his voice hardened as he continued, eyes boring into me; his resemblance to his youngest son so strong I bit back a gasp. "You did _nothing_ wrong. Sigurd is solely to blame for this. Your choice of clothing had no bearing on his actions. You _did not_ deserve this or encourage it. Sigurd has shamed me beyond explanation and if I ever see him again-" he broke off again, swallowed and continued, his intensity fading. "You did nothing wrong," he repeated, gentler this time. "Never think that, never blame yourself for Sigurd's failings." His hand trembled slightly as he stroked my hair. "You are my daughter and my heart breaks thinking about it, I will never forgive him and I won't hear you blaming yourself in any way, do you understand?"

I nodded, feeling my tears trickle down my cheeks. Ragnar thumbed them away and glanced over at his phone. "Are you hungry?" He asked suddenly.

I was actually, and sore from laying down. "Yes," I moved to sit up but Ragnar pushed me back down.

"Stay here."

"I can't, I need to get and do something."

Ragnar studied me a moment before nodding and standing up, Ragnar carefully holding my shoulders. I was shaky at first and Ragnar waited until I was steady before letting go and stepping back.

"I should shower... "

Ragnar nodded. "I'll give you some space. Call me if you need anything."

I joined Ragnar later down in my kitchen. He had started to make something to eat, but when I came in he was standing at the counter, staring out the window and he startled guiltily when he saw me.

"I was going to make you something, but I lost track of time." He gave me a faint Ragnar grin, but it held no real joy or humour.

"It's okay," I replied. The shower had eased my pain and I felt better. I was going to need to deal with this eventually, but right now, all I wanted was normalcy and to eat.

"Coffee?" Ragnar offered.

"Please."

He'd just passed me a cup and sipped at his own when the doorbell rang. I glanced over in question but Ragnar shrugged. He trailed close behind me as I walked to the door, and my back bumped against his chest as I opened the door and took a step back.

"Stu." Ragnar greeted neutrally.

I knew the man in front of me, Officer Meyer, or Detective now, based on his badge and suit, had usually been the one to return the newest misbehaving Lothbrok son by his ear to Ragnar; he'd busted me a time or two for petty shit, but he, my father and Ragnar had always come to a 'compromise' and we'd never really gotten into trouble. My heart thudded painfully now as he studied my face with interest.

"Ragnar, your housekeeper said you'd be here. And this is Sera, it's been awhile, Ms. Madsen... what happened to your face?" He tone indicated he already had a damn good idea and my mouth answered before my brain could catch up.

"I fell down the stairs."

Ragnar's hand touched my side in warning. "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"Can I come in?"

Ragnar paused, letting me lead. "Of course," I replied, working to keep my voice neutral. I stepped back and the Detective walked inside, eyes briefly but efficiently scanning the room.

"Coffee?" Ragnar asked, moving into the kitchen, his hand gently but insistently pulling me with him.

Meyers followed, collapsing into the nearest chair with a sigh.

"I haven't seen you since you've come home; I'm sorry about your father Sera, he'll be missed."

I nodded, swallowing hard and sat at the other end of the table, where Ragnar's hand on my back gently directed me. He sat beside me and his hand rested lightly on my knee.

"I'll get right to it... Ragnar, an hour ago neighbours called in, shots fired. By the time we arrived it was too late; Sigurd is dead."

Ragnar's hand closed convulsively on my knee and I heard him inhale sharply. I too gasped, my mind zeroing in on one possible explanation. _Ivar._

"The ME is calling it a straight up execution. Sigurd was shot once in the groin, and the shooter let him drag himself a dozen or so feet before firing twice more, once in the base of the spine and the last in the back of the head." He turned abruptly to me. "I hear you're seeing Ivar now, is he the name of the stairs you fell down, or Sigurd?"

I faltered, mouth opening and closing. Ragnar's hand squeezed my knee again. My thoughts whirled and I could feel Ragnar's apprehension. _Had Ivar done this, executed Sigurd? It was nearly a given, they hated each other and Sigurd had just tried to rape me. Was Ragnar going to lose two sons today?_

"I'm going to need to talk to Ivar, you know where he is?" Meyers expression said he already knew the answer.

My heart sank, and I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Ragnar's eyes were shiny as he opened his mouth to answer.

Meyer's radio squawked and he held up his hand for Ragnar to wait. Plucking it from his belt he barked, "go ahead."

" _Suspect in custody for Lothbrok case. We have a confession, Higgins is taking them in for an official statement."_

Surprise and grim acceptance flashed in Meyer's eyes. He glanced at Ragnar before speaking again. "Who is it?"

" _Name LaSalle, Veronique. Victim's fiancée."_

Meyers blinked in shock and I felt Ragnar sag beside me in relief. He glanced at me and smiled briefly before turning back to the Detective, who was already moving to stand. The wind seemed to have been taken out of his sails, he'd pegged Ivar as the doer, and he didn't like being wrong. His sharp glare pierced me again. "Don't leave town," he snapped before turning on his heel and leaving. It was an empty threat and we all knew it. I waited until the door slammed before turning to Ragnar.

"If Ivar didn't do it, then where is he?"

Ragnar shook his head and heaved a sigh; I remembered then with a pang of guilt that Sigurd was _dead_ , I could feel relieved about Ivar all I wanted, but Ragnar had still lost a son.

"Ragnar, I'm sorry."

Ragnar nodded sharply before looking away and I cautiously embraced him. He stiffened for a moment before melting back against me and I heard him stifle a sob. He sons were far from perfect, but Ragnar loved them all.

We were silent for a few minutes, save for Ragnar's ragged breathing and my sniffling. Then, Ragnar sat back up, gently disentangling himself from me and cleared his throat. Worry was the predominant emotion in his eyes now, _where the hell were the rest of his boys?_

A familiar roar was his answer, and I recognized Bjorn's truck. Relief flooded me and I couldn't stop a shaky giggle. Ragnar stood and I got to my feet beside him. The door banged open.

"Sera?!" Ivar sounded wrecked. He appeared in the doorway, looking like some half-sane hermit, his clothes and face were dirty, his hair tangled. Seeing me his face sagged in relief and he started towards me again. I ran for him and crashed into his arms, feeling him crush me against his chest. He buried his head in my neck and I heard him fighting not to cry. Tears flowed freely for me and I vaguely registered Ubbe touch my shoulder as he quietly passed, saw Hvitserk and Bjorn step by as well.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?" Ragnar demanded.

I pulled away from Ivar, ready to here their answer as well but Ivar wrapped his arms tightly around me again, holding me to his chest. He didn't answer Ragnar, kept his cheek pressed to mine.

Finally Ubbe spoke. "Ivar thought Sigurd would have gone out to the cabin to hide. Hvitserk and I followed him but couldn't get him to stop. The road is in bad shape and Ivar crashed your car, dad. He insisted on going up to the cabin to find Sigurd, but then my bike ran out of gas and we couldn't all get back out. There's no cell service either. We were figuring out how to get back out when Bjorn drove up. Sorry, if we could have called you, we would have."

"Sigurd is dead." Ragnar said abruptly. All four Lothbrok boys froze, staring at Ragnar in shock. Ivar's arms went rock hard around me, then he relaxed infinitesimally.

"Good." He voice was a bare whisper, his lips brushing my throat and I shivered at the banked rage I still felt in him.

"How?" Ubbe demanded.

Finally Ivar released me and looked over at his father. All his son's eyes were on him now, eyebrows raised in shock. It was too soon for them to feel any type of grief, that would come later.

"He was shot, execution style, in his driveway. Detective Meyers was here questioning us, and looking for you, Ivar;" Ragnar turned fierce eyes to his youngest, "when the call came through. Veronique shot him, she confessed."

"Veronique?!" Ubbe yelled, "execution style?"

"Once in the groin, once in the base of the spine, once in the back of the head." Ragnar replied.

"Do you think she knew what Sigurd had done?" Hvitserk asked no one in particular.

"She must have suspected at least," Bjorn replied. "She didn't strike me as the 'forgive and forget' kind."

Ivar snorted derisively. "She was probably just pissed that he embarrassed her; she wouldn't care if he hurt Sera."

Ubbe opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again. Ivar was probably right.

Ivar burrowed his head down to murmur in my ear.

"Are you in pain?"

I shook my head against his chest. "No, I just want to go lay down."

"Can I come with you?"

I nodded, curling my fingers into his shirt. I didn't want anything else.

Ivar snorted softly. "I need to shower."

I nodded again, not trusting my words and let Ivar pull me away, let him tell his brothers where we were going. Ivar helped me lay gently down on my bed before he disappeared to shower, and I was almost asleep when I felt the bed dip beside me, felt Ivar tentatively wrap his arms around me. He normally didn't hesitate, claiming me with his body when we lay together, but he was timid, uncertain; not wanting to scare me. But I couldn't be afraid of Ivar, I knew in my deepest heart that he would never hurt me the way Sigurd had, that he was capable of some dark shit, that he carried a shadowy place inside him and he sometimes couldn't control it, but I was safe with him, he would die before he let himself hurt me.

I nuzzled back against him, basking in the warmth and security of his body and felt his muscles ease behind me. He'd been afraid of my reaction, afraid that I would pull away, afraid that I would think him capable of the same evil as his brother. His lips were gentle as they caressed my shoulder and I let go, let sleep claim me.

I jolted awake, a scream echoing in my head, I was sweating, trembling slightly and I could feel my heart pounding.

"Baby?"

I turned my head in surprise. Ivar was still laying with me, still wrapped around me. He was half-awake and gazing at me with hooded eyes. His smile was troubled and wan when our eyes met.

"You were having a nightmare," he murmured softly. "You've been restless for hours. I've been waking you up when it got bad." His hand reached up but hesitated before touching me, then gently curled into my hair.

"Did you kill Sigurd? Is Veronique's confession fake?" The words left my mouth before I even recognized they were on my tongue; and, as I spoke them, I realized that even if the answer was _yes_ that it changed nothing, didn't change my feelings for Ivar, the fact that he would kill for me.

Ivar's eyes searched mine a long moment, but he didn't look hurt by my question. "No," he gritted. "I wish I had, if it _had_ been me, I wouldn't have wasted so many bullets. I would have shot his dick off then watched him bleed out." Banked rage glowed in his supernatural eyes and his breathing was harsh. "I should have killed the bastard the first time he laid hands on you." Unconsciously, on reflex only I tensed, reacting to the pure furious energy radiating off of him and Ivar frowned. His finger pressed gently under my chin, lifting my head and it was this contrast; the way his voice, his body could be tight with rage, but his touch against my skin always so tender and soft that stole my heart, convinced me the way nothing else could that his next words were true. "I will never hurt you Sera."

Heat flared in my chest. Sigurd's lecherous touch, his nauseating groan of desire was still excruciatingly fresh, but a new throbbing began in me. I wanted to erase Sigurd's taint, obliterate the memory of him rising above me, his hand a violation between my legs; I wanted Ivar to -

"Make me forget him," I murmured, curling closer to Ivar's chest. I felt him tense against me.

"Sera?"

"Make love to me Ivar," I heard myself whisper, my voice a benediction, a plea to my master. "Make me forget what he did, I want to feel good again."

Ivar groaned, a deep uneven sound as he buried his head in my hair. I could feel the desire in him, the want, the need to make me his again, but he hesitated, loath to wound me further. His exhale was unsteady, ragged as I guided his lips to mine, my fingers feather-light on his jaw. I felt the exact moment he gave in, his hand tightening as it curled into my hair, cradled the back of my head. His moan was double-edged, a wordless expression of desire, a plaintive cry of mourning for my sorrow. His hand trembled as his muscles flexed, his body curling closer to mine then he rolled, pulling me beneath him, caging my head between his forearms. Unlike his late brother, Ivar hovering above me was not frightening, was instead security, a safe place. His lips were soft at first, then more demanding, his tongue pressing into my mouth and along my own.

I arched beneath him, quivering in anticipation and hooked my leg around his hips, pulling his rapidly hardening cock tighter to my core. His hand fumbled at my shorts while I yanked at his sweats.

Our cries joined into one as our bodies did the same, Ivar's cock filling me in one smooth thrust and an incredible feeling of _rightness_ flooded me.

 _Sigurd who?_

Ivar shuddered as his hips started pumping against me, his strokes at first slow and gentle, growing harder and deeper as my moans and cries spurred him on.

"Fuck," he gasped, spine arching sharply. "Fuck Sera, you feel so good... I can't -" he broke off with a groan.

I tried to say his name, but couldn't form words; something was changing between us, our incredible chemistry, our natural rhythm together morphing into something deeper, more visceral; our souls joining and mating and I knew in that moment that I was changed, would never be the same after this, Ivar had become essential to my survival, and me to his.

Ivar rolled suddenly, pulling me on top, his hands gripping my hips, giving me control of our movement and I rolled my hips desperately, aching to feel him deep inside, brushing all my secret places. Ivar's head snapped back into the pillow as he groaned, a rough growl of desire, his hands tightening. I felt my orgasm rising frighteningly fast and Ivar shuddered beneath me, feverishly close himself.

I cried out Ivar's name as I climaxed, as we met our release together, Ivar roaring as he spilled inside me, brushing my womb as I pulsed around him, my fingers scratching red trails across his heaving chest, his hands bruisingly tight on my hips. I dropped forward limply, utterly spent and utterly at peace, felt Ivar wrap his strong arms around me, pressing me to him as we panted together, aftershocks trembling through us. I mourned the loss as his softening cock finally slipped from my body then he rolled us to the side, tucking me against his chest and pressed his lips to my hair and cheek and jaw before locking onto my mouth, stealing the remains of my breath and heart with a devastating kiss.

Finally pulling away he nuzzled his face against mine, his eyelashes tickling my skin.

"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you?" He breathed, barely audible.

I hummed a negative, too sated to even speak, ready to drift off again when Ivar spoke once more.

"Marry me Sera. I know I've already asked and you've already said no, but I can't wait any longer. I need you with me and everything that's just happened made me realize I can't live without you. We don't need to do it right away but, please baby, please say you'll be mine." His voice was fervent with feeling, rough with emotion, breaking with the last _please_ and I let my heart answer this time.

"Yes."


End file.
